You Don't Know the Meaning of Fear
by wandertogondor
Summary: Meg Winchester was always afraid that the family business would haunt her even when she got thousands of miles away from her father. It only took one visit from Dean to pull her back into the life she wanted to avoid. SisFic. Co-written by the lovely sweetkiwi604!
1. Chapter 1

**As it says in the summary, this story will be written by myself and sweetkiwi604. Please leave a review. It'd mean a lot to the both of us :)**

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"Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material" - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I sighed, sitting on a bar stool behind the counter with an exhausted huff. The small bar was unusually busy for a Monday night. Then again, once you go alcoholic, there's no going back. I had planned at least starting the paper I had due on Friday but we since we were so busy and I felt like absolute crap, I hid in the corner to get a few minutes of silence. I felt my warm, fever induced cheeks with my calloused hands, taking a minute to relax. Spending all my time between the bar and school was wearing me thin but tuition needed to be paid and books bought.

"Sleeping on the job, Winchester? Rookie move."

"No on likes a creeper, Xander," I replied, looking up to see the bar manager leaning against the shelves beside me.

He just grinned; his dimples making him look more like a teenager than a guy who ran one of the best bars in town. Then again, it was the only bar in this small town.

"Put your game face on, Meg. There's a high roller at the end of the bar with your name all over him," he started knowing how much I needed the tips.

"Describe the situation," I sat up fixing my hair and wrapping an apron around my waist.

"He looks the whiskey type," Xander continued.

"Oh, I know a lot of those," I muttered under my breath, smiling to myself when I found myself thinking about my family.

"What can I do you for?" I asked not really paying attention to the guy as I casually tossed a coaster onto the bar.

"Double shot of whiskey on the rocks," he answered.

"Should have known," I mumbled to myself turning around to grab a glass and fill it with ice.

"Yeah, you should have Meggie."

Hearing my old nickname I whipped my head around and was met by Dean's green eyes staring back at me. I barely felt the glass slip out of my hands as it fell to the floor and shatter into pieces.

"It's only been about three years," Dean continued as I stood there like a deer in headlights.

"Everything ok over here, Meg?" Xander questioned coming over to make sure I was alright.

"Yeah," I nodded not taking my eyes off of Dean, "I'm going to take my break, I'll be back," I said untying my apron and tossing it to Xander before walking out the front door.

"And here I thought you left to go to college but you're just some bar wench," Dean remarked as he followed me outside.

"I am in college asshole and you would know that if you ever picked up the God damn phone and called me," I sneered not being able to control my anger.

It had been three years since Dad and me gotten into the argument about wanting to go to college and leave hunting behind. It had been three years since I stormed out of that roach motel. It had been three long years since I heard from my older brother. There was a time when we used to tell each other everything, we were each other's best friends, we would pick on Sammy and sit up and watch Novellas making up our own conversations since we could never understand what they were saying but that was three years ago.

"It's nice to see you too, little sister. You know," he smirked in the distance above my head and shoved his hands into his worn jacket pocket, "you look more and more like me everyday."

"I'm nothing like you, Dean."

"That's right," he nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck before taking a step closer to me, "I didn't walk out on my family."

I gritted my teeth, glancing over to the bar and saw Xander quickly move away from the window. The wind was warm and I could see the Impala shining in her glory on the other end of the parking lot.

"I see dad gave you the Impala," I commented calmly, trying to hide my jealousy, "What'd you do to get on his good side?"

"I stayed," my brother stated evenly which made my blood boil. Did he really think he could show up here after three years with not even one word spoken and start a fight?

"Well maybe you should just haul ass and go back to where you came from and leave me the hell alone, Dean."

"College girls," Dean muttered and rolled his eyes.

"So, why are you here? You gonna help pay off my student loan or what?"

"Close," he put a finger up to prove a point.

"Well, whatever crap you want to get me into," I said as I started walking back to the bar, "You're doing by yourself. I'll tell Sam you came by though."

Dean grabbed my hand and pulled me back to face him, holding tight to look me in the eyes and ask, "You talk to Sam?"

"Yeah," I shrugged like it was no big deal.

I always felt guilty for leaving Sam behind when I left. It wasn't a surprise when the kid called me saying he was in California living with a girl that was way out of his league. I went to visit him in California once during my spring break. He was happy. And when all you've seen in your life was dirty motels, guns and nightmares in your closet it was a pleasant necessity to see a smile on my little brother's face. Maybe I had done something right in leaving; I taught him how to do it too.

"Meg," Dean snapped his fingers in front of my face, "You still with me?"

"What?" I said irritated pulling my arm out of his grasp, "What do you want?"

"I just drove twenty-two straight hours to see if you were ok. By the looks of things you need to eat a few more burgers and you do realize you have a fever, right?" he questioned looking me up and down like he was taking in every inch of me and how much I have changed.

"I can take care of myself, Dean," I stated but my words came out inaudible and cracked, even as the words left my mouth I knew he didn't believe me but I couldn't expect him to take care of my life we used to, we were adults now and I was doing my best, "I have to get back to work."

"I get it," he said rather disappointedly, fishing out his keys, and trying to pull a puppy-eyed guilt trip on me. Who did he think he was, Sam?

I groaned, "Dean, uh, my shifts almost over, why don't you stick around for a drink? It's on me."

"I can't keep up with your mood swings, Meggie," he grinned, "Give me a warning or something next time you're going to give me whiplash."

"On one condition," I stopped before we reentered the bar, "You don't all me 'Meggie'. I'm not a little girl anymore, Dean."

"Ok," he agreed readily, opening the door for me and as I walked in he felt the need to add, "Meggie."

Even after three years, one-thousand and ninety-five days, one-million five-hundred and seventy-six thousand eight-hundred minutes, it only took one second for my older brother to come back into my life. Maybe it was for the better this time.


	2. Chapter 2

"The greatest thing in family life is to take a hint when a hint is intended-and not to take a hint when a hint isn't intended." -Robert Frost

"Drinking on the job?" Dean questioned watching me finish a shot of Jack Daniels that the last customer pushed in my direction before leaving.

"You don't say no when a customer offers you a drink, higher tab means bigger tips for me."

"Well, here," Dean said casually tossing two hundred dollars on the bar.

I just stared at him, unsure of what he was doing.

"Put it towards tuition," he shrugged.

"I don't want your money, Dean," I sighed as I walked down the bar and picked up the empty glasses and shoved a couple of singles in the back pocket of my jeans.

"It's not mine, people in this town suck at pool," he stated taking a couple coasters that were still on the bar and throwing them into the garbage.

"Hey, Meg," Xander called out from the backroom, "You mind closing up tonight there's something I have to do."

"Something or someone?" I asked with a laugh. He knew that meant I didn't care and left out the back door leaving me to wander to the front and lock up and turn off the open sign.

"Two Winchester's in an empty bar," Dean smirked as he looked at all the bottle of liquor behind the counter.

"It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke," I replied taking off my apron and letting my hair down allowing it to cascade down to the small of my back.

"Still haven't cut your hair I see," Dean commented giving it a slight tug as I walked past him, "I'll never understand the attachment you have to it."

I would never tell him that I left my hair long because it reminded me of our mother. They were very few things I remembered about her since I was so young when she died but there were a few things, like how her clothes always smelled of lavender, her long beautiful blond hair and the little silly songs she used to hum as she worked around the house. The same songs I still hear in my dreams almost every night.

"Come on, one game of pool with your favorite brother," he said walking over and racking the balls, "for old time's sake."

"Sam's here," I questioned looking around the bar.

"Ha ha, very funny," he mocked as I stood there laughing.

"Hold on," I said walking in the backroom and turning on the coffee pot, "I need caffeine."

"It's three in the morning," Dean argued.

"So?" I shrugged grabbing a pool stick and lining up to take a shot but I couldn't concentrate not when I had this question screaming in my head so I straightened back out and turned my full attention to Dean, "Why are you here?"

"Wanted to check in, I haven't seen you in awhile," Dean said.

"I'm calling your bluff, Dean," I stated as I watched him shift his weight and slightly look to the left, something he always did when he was lying but he didn't change his answer, "Either tell me why you are here or I'm shoving this pool stick up your ass."

He thought about it for a minute and didn't answer until I took a step closer to him, "Dad's missing."

"That's it?" I almost laughed in his face as I went back to break.

"It's been over two weeks and nothing, I've called around and no one had heard from him…then two days ago I got a call from Joshua saying he heard he might be in Kansas," Dean continued as I successfully sank two solid balls.

"You're stripes," I said moving to the side so he could shoot.

"Meg, are you even listening to me?" he asked angrily.

"Yeah, I hear you," I nodded and motioned to the pool table, "you going to play or what?"

"Megan, Dad is missing!" Dean yelled. I knew I had pissed him off when I got my full name but I just didn't care.

"Good for him," I yelled back, "You were there Dean, you stood right there and said nothing as he told me I wasn't a part of the family anymore, so why? Why would I drop everything that I've worked so hard for to help you look for a man I don't ever want to see again?!"

"Because you don't turn your back on family…even if they have turned their back on you!"

I didn't know what to say as I angrily bit at the skin around my nails so Dean continued.

"I'll make you a deal," he said in a much calmer voice, "we'll play for it. You win I'll walk right back out that door and not look back…BUT when I win, you pack up your stuff, get in the Impala and come with me to get Sam."

I thought about it for a minute and my only answer was, "it's your shot."

It was a close game, a lot closer than either of us had expected. I was torn inside between fighting like hell to stay away from hunting and to go with my brother who I missed terribly even if I would never show it. It was down to my last shot, all I had to do was put the little ball in the little hole and I would have my normal life, I took my shot and missed…maybe on purpose or maybe it was just fate.

"Pack your bags, Meggie," Dean said with a smug look on his face.

"One condition," I started until he cut me off.

"You always have a condition," he griped.

"I'll go with you to find Dad…but you leave Sam out of it."

"Why?" He snorted, putting the cues on the rack toward the back. "He's every inch Winchester as you or me and we drop everything to find our own."

"No," I corrected forcefully. "Sam and I drop everything. You're just a high school dropout with six bucks to your name."

A visible look of hurt passed through his eyes. I tried to apologize but left the point was moot. I knew that Dean had given up more than Sam and I had. He gave up everything for his family. He gave up his education, his talents and his happiness. He gave it all up so Sam and I could have what we wanted. In my book, that was the real definition of 'dropping everything' but my want to protect the normal life I had created for myself had clouded my judgment and let me say hurtful words I knew sunk in deep. No family is perfect. We argue, we fight. We even stopped talking to each other. But in the end: family is family. The love will always be there. And after all these years I've never stopped dreaming that one day we can still be a real family, together. All four of us laughing and talking, loving and understanding, not looking towards the past but only to the future.

"Let's just leave Sam out of it, Dean," I said much quieter hoping that it would be enough for me to go with him.

He nodded, patting his sides to find the keys to the Impala. "I can't find my-"

"It's right here," I held up the key chain that was lying on the counter literally right in front of his face. Just the feeling of the Impala's keys in my hand sent a surge of jealousy through me as I thought about all the times Dad and I had talked about me getting the Impala one day, 'Daddy's girl needs wheels', he used to say but that felt like a different life time.

"It must have been under something," Dean innocently gawked like a kid as I poured the coffee into a to-go cup.

"Yeah, your nose," I laughed walking over to grab my jacket and turn off all the lights.

"How do you see these things?"

"With these magical things called eyes, Dean. Maybe you've heard of 'em."

"'With magical things called eyes,'" My brother mocked my voice as I stepped outside, "'Maybe you've heard of 'em.'"

"Shut up, I don't sound like that."

"Uh huh, yeah, you do," he immaturely chided as we walked across the parking lot toward the Impala.

"Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust?" I snapped, feeling the side of the paintwork with a delicate hand, "Dad wouldn't have given you the damn thing if he thought you were going to ruin it."

"The paint's fine, Meggie. Get in." He slid into the front seat and started the engine. Before I could reach the passenger's door the car lurched forward a few feet.

"Seriously, Dean, what are we ten years old?" I cried, getting irritated when he would drive a few more feet when I got close.

"The difference between me and a ten year old," He began.

"Your shoe size?"

"No," Dean laughed from out his open window, happy that he could ruffle my feathers without letting the beast loose, "How many ten year olds do you know with a sweet ride like my baby?"

"That sounds like a line out of a Zeppelin song," I ran around to his side, trying to distract him long enough so I could hop into the back.

"You kidding me, Meg?" The car stopped and I sprinted to settle in the seat beside him, "Zeppelin's philosophical and psychedelic."

"You're thinking Pink Floyd, smarty pants."

"Whatever," He threw back, playfully messing my hair up and pulling onto the main road. I rolled my eyes when I picked up the box of music that he had stashed beneath the seat.

"Dude, you still have cassette tapes. Haven't you ever thought of upgrading?"

"What, and slut my baby up? No way!"

I sat without talking just taking in the familiar leather of the Impala. I inhaled the smell of my Dad's jacket, liquor and gunpowder. All sorts of memories flooded back into my head like some secret dam in my subconscious had been released and everything that I had put away was coming back to me like a horrific, wonderful nightmare.

"Do you have any solid leads?" I asked in between giving directions to my apartment. "Did you do any research or anything?"

"Uh, no, just that he might be in Kansas," he answered and I could see him look at me from the corner of his eye and adding, "That's why I have you, college girl."

"So not only do you drag me away from my normal life but you want me to go back home? That's very comforting, Dean. It's nice to see that you can come to me to get your work done."

"What are little sister's for?" The way he grinned got me remembering the time when Sam was little. It was so long ago but the memory was so clear.

***Flashback***

"What'd you learn at school today, Sammy?" Dean asked Sam who was holding either of our hands.

Sam jumped excitedly between us, his Mickey Mouse backpack straps sliding off his shoulders every time he moved.

"Meggie," he motioned me down to my ankles to look at him face to face. "Sam learned abbition today."

"You mean 'addition', buddy," I poked his pudgy cheeks and smiled. "What'd you learn?"

Sam shook his head with a wide, toothy grin, and refused to tell me.

"I dare you," I warned but he was adamant, "I double dog dare you!" Sam squealed when I picked him up, backpack and all, and carried him into the motel room, tossing him on the bed from five feet away. "Still won't tell me?" He shook his head, rolling off the bed to attack Dean's legs.

"'Dean, two plus two equals five," Sam said ecstatically, "That's what me learned."

"Nooo, Sammy, it equals four but you were so close. Give me the bomb," Dean held his fist to our little brother, making an exploding noise when they bumped fists.

"Sam," I corrected, pouring him a bowl of Lucky Charms, "You shouldn't say 'That's what _me _learned.' You have to say: That's what _I _learned."

Sam just grinned again, sprinting toward the table and climbing the chair to dig into his cereal having registered nothing that I said. He looked up at me partway through the bowl, smiling again with a mouthful of half-chewed food and milk dribbling down his chin.

"Meggie, I learned abbition today. Was that right?"

"Yeah, Sam," I replied with a smile not wanting to correct him again, "that was right."

***Present***

That was one of the better memories of our childhood, most of the time it would be sleazy motel rooms and staying inside the perimeter of salt. What am I talking about? It was sleazy motel rooms and salt all of the time. SSDD, you know. Same shit, different day. It would grate. But it had been all that I had ever known. Going back into the family business felt like karma biting me in the ass for leaving in the first place and let me tell you she was a bigger bitch than I could ever be.

"Dude, check it out," Dean turned the volume to the low humming radio up, "It's King Harvest, your favorite."

I laughed when I heard _Dancing in the Moonlight _blasting through the speakers. It'd been so long since I heard this song. I rolled down the windows and stuck my arm out to feel the cold wind blowing over my skin.

"We like our fun and we never fight," I sang out loud, moving along with the music despite the tight, enclosed space, "You can't dance and stay uptight. It's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancing in the moonlight."

I let out a heavy breath when the song faded out and the only thing I could hear was the rumbling engine.

"I haven't seen you dancing like that since like 1987," Dean teased.  
"Neither have I," I admitted to myself more than to him.

Only one year stood out in my mind, 1999. Now that seemed liked ages ago. That was the year I 'abandoned' my family as Dad had so articulately put it. So many words had been said during that year that it wouldn't have been worth remembering. But I did remember, I remembered every hurtful word, every tear shed and I remember my dad telling me that if I walked out the door of that dirty motel room that I shouldn't bother coming back. I think that was the only time I listened to my father.

***Flashback***

"Megan, you have a responsibility to this family," Dad yelled getting so furious with me that his face was turning red.

"What to the crusade to find mom's killer?" I screamed back, "It won't bring her back! The only thing you are going to do is kill us in the process!"

"Stop it," Sam said quietly but it pierced through me as though he had shouted it at the top of his lungs.

"I can't do this anymore, Dad," I cried throwing my duffel over my shoulder.

"So you're just going to abandon this family?"

"No, I'm going to live a life where I don't have to worry every day if this is the night something finally gets the best of you and I lose someone else I love."

"You walk out that door, you are no longer a part of this family," Dad said with such promise in his voice that it almost put a smile on my face.

"No, please," Sam begged as Dean stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. I knew he would never stand up to our father, whatever Dad said Dean followed without question, even if it meant losing his little sister.

"Goodbye," I whispered and walked out the door.

***Present***

"Hey, did I lose you?" Dean questioned as he waved a hand in front of my face.

"No, just remembering."

"Well, that's specific," he scoffed, "What about?"

"Oh, you know," I looked over at him with a guileless smile, "just out wonderful upbringing."

"Whether you like it or not, Meg, dad raised us right. He got us ready for the real world."

"Getting us ready for the 'real world' would be telling us that we can't always get what we want or that we shouldn't drink and drive, Dean. I knew how to fire a Browning when I was six freaking years old. When Sam had nightmares about the boogey man in his closet, dad handed him a .45. That's not getting us ready for life. That's getting us ready to be warriors."

"And you'll never forget it, any of it. You don't need dad telling you not to drink after you've had a few. It's common sense."

"It would've been nice if he just have us a heads up," I put out there muttering beneath my breath.

"You can't always get what you want, Meggie."

"Gee, thanks, Dean. Your sense of punctuality is spot on as usual. Turn left," I pointed to the road that led to my apartment.

"You live here?" Dean gawked as we walked up the cobblestone walkway toward the large building, "How do you pay for it?"

"I have a roommate," I shrugged, opening the door to the stairs and shattering my brother's dreams when I had to pull him away from the elevator, "stairs are healthy."

"So, this roommate of yours," he said between muttering about having to take the stairs, "Is she…?"

"Is she what?" I glanced back briefly, letting him stop for a short rest at one of the floors, "dude, the only thing she is, is way out of your league."

"What does she do?"

"She's a dancer or something along those lines."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked and I could see the wheels turning in his head.

I stopped outside of my door and turned to my brother, "Mind your manners. I don't want you staring, flirting and/or sleeping with her."

"What?" he said accusingly, "I would never do that."

I rolled my eyes, unlocking the door and entering the apartment with Dean speculating every inch of the room behind me. Dropping my jacket on the old couch Stephanie had gotten from Goodwill, I checked to see if she was sleeping.

"Hey, Meg," she sat on her bed cross-legged, a bright smile on her face, "You're back late."

"I know," I slid into her room, glancing back at Dean who was looking at the pictures on the mantel, "I just had a little run in with someone."

"Are you ok?" her face was suddenly concerned as she got up and stood near me, "Who was it?"

"My brother."

"Can I meet him?"

I heard the refrigerator door open and some rustling before, "dude, these mini Philly cheese steaks are delicious!"

Dean came down the hallway toward Steph's room and grinned with food shoved to one side of his mouth that made him look like a chipmunk. He slapped his crumb soiled hand on his jacket and then held it out to Steph.

"And here I was expecting Cleopatra or Joan of Arc," he turned to me with a charming smile, "you never told me your roommate was Aphrodite herself."

I pursed my lips, getting ready to give him a nice shiner, "Anyways, Steph, a family issue's come up. I'm going to be out for a couple days."

"I hope everything's ok," her eyes got wide again in honest care for my well being.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I lied, "Nothing Dean and I can't handle, right Dean?"

"Right," he absently said still staring at Steph his eyes falling on the tattoo that was slightly visible on her right hip, her sweatpants not coming up high enough to cover it.

"Why don't you," I shoved him out of her room and down toward the hall, "go do what you do best and raid the fridge while I get my stuff."

It didn't take me long to pack and in no time we were back in the car. Somehow I had talked Dean into letting me drive the first part so he could get some sleep but for the first few minutes I would catch him looking at me curiously.

"What?" I asked frustrated feeling a little self-conscious at the way he kept looking at me.

"Do you…I mean, you don't…" he stuttered until he finally spit it out, "Do you have any ink?"

I couldn't help but bust out laughing, so hard that I had to blink back a few tears.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Would you put a bumper sticker on the Impala?" I questioned.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly," I smiled as I turned the radio on, "Now get some sleep. I'll wake you up when it's your turn."

I turned the dial clockwise slightly so I could barely hear the lyrics. My brother looked at my profile for a split second before leaning back on the seat and closing his eyes. He let out a deep breath then reached over to tug at the end of my hair again.

"Nice to have you back, Meggie." He murmured, crossing his arms against his shoulders again.

"It's good to be back," I whispered quiet enough so he couldn't hear; quiet enough so that I couldn't hear myself say it.


	3. Chapter 3

**sweetkiwi604 and I are so happy that you're enjoying our story so far! If you haven't already, please go check out her profile...it'll be worth it, I swear :) Leave a review if you will, if not then thank you for reading!**

**Remember: this story is YOURS too! If you have any suggestions for future chapters feel free to PM sweetkiwi604 or me! **

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"One of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don't come home at night."—Margaret Mead

I quietly hummed along to the radio, careful not to wake Dean who looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages. Driving down the highway I found my mind wandering; was dad really in trouble? Did he finally find the thing that killed mom? If he did, would we be a normal family again? I almost laughed out loud at that one, 'normal' family, I knew that one would always be just a dream. But still the smile never left my face, I loved my family, no matter how dysfunctional we may be and the fact that I had my older brother sitting next to me again felt like old times.

"What has you so smiley?" Dean questioned and to be honest I didn't even know he had woken up.

I glanced over to him and saw that his eyes were still closed and if he had never said anything I would have thought he was still asleep, "Your eyes aren't even open, how do you know I'm smiling?"

"'Cause you've been driving in silence for about," he replied, glancing down to check his watch, "six hours, which means you've probably ran through every possible scenario on what's going on with dad, you've contemplated calling Sam, and you most likely remembered that I'm your favorite brother."

"I never said you were my favorite," I smirked, slightly surprised that even after all this time, he still knew me better than I probably knew myself.

"So, where about are we?" he asked straightening up in the seat and stretching the best he could in the small space.

"About 120 miles from the Kansas state line."

"Alright, so we'll get into Lawrence in…about four hours or so and I figured we would check back at our old house first and go from there," he said as if it was no big deal. And I didn't know if he was putting on the brave face for me or himself.

"Well, let's get some food first," I said putting the blinker on and getting into the right lane so I could get off at the next rest area. Anything to delay going home.

I pulled into the diner that looked like it had been plucked out of the sixties and stuck on the side of the road. Dean went to use the restroom as I ordered us both large coffees and food.

"So…" Dean started when he slid into his side of the booth.

"What?" I asked not looking up from the waterfall of sugar that I was pouring into my coffee.

"Want some coffee with your sugar?" he laughed taking a sip of his without so much of one drop of creamer or even one morsel of sweetener.

"The extra sugar gives me a boost," I shrugged as I started absentmindedly stirring the spoon around in the cup.

"I hear Sam's studying pre-law, maybe he could get us out of any trouble we run into," he chuckled eyeing a waitress as she walked by in short skirt.

"You mean any trouble _you_ run into," I corrected as I kicked him under the table to get his eyes off back to our table.

"That's right, college girl thinks she's so smart and above it all now," he rolled his eyes, "So, what are you studying? Pre-law like Sam? Or maybe you're going to be some technician?"

"Technician? Just because I know how to take apart that car," I said pointing my thumb in the direction of the Impala, "and put it back together doesn't mean I want to do it for the rest of my life, and no not pre-law like Sam one lawyer in the family is more than enough."

"Then what?" he asked clearly getting impatient.

"Pathology."

"Seriously?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," I shrugged not seeing the big deal.

"Well, that's lively."

"What's wrong with pathology?"

"Nothing," my brother shrugged dismissively, "I mean, you've been studying to look at dead guys for the rest of your life. That must be the ultimate bragging right."

"It sure beats hunting down monsters and putting your life on the line for people who don't give a rat's ass."

Dean smiled slightly, knowing exactly what I meant, "Well, if you want people to say thank you for everything then you should think about migrating up to Canada."

"I should," I agreed jokingly, "Canada's got some pretty bad-ass stuff."

"Yeah," he nodded over the brim of his coffee, "like moose."

The waitress set two loaded plates before either of us, though I was pretty sure she didn't even know I was at the table as she smiled at Dean and sauntered away. I rolled my eyes when he blatantly stared after her.

"Too busy with the check-out to eat," I speculated, shoveling a forkful of eggs and bacon into my mouth, "I can't tell if you're sick or still haven't gotten your priorities straight."

"Who needs priorities when you can get free check-outs from slutty waitresses?"

It was logic I knew I couldn't argue with, nor would I want to. Growing up I realized that letting Dean do his own thing his own way would be the best way to go. Though the big ass would always be out there for me, Dean had a way of never being there when you needed him in a tricky situation. But he made up for it by being there when you needed him the most.

"Can I get you anything else…anything at all?" The waitress whisked forward, leaning over near Dean's face to refill his half-empty glass.

"No," I said, putting on a smile as sweet as molasses, leaning on my elbows over my plate, "You know, I just have to say that you look lovely."

She was halfway through saying thank you when I butt in again.

"It must have taken you all day."

Dean tried his best to stifle a laugh as the waitress fumed and nearly spilled the scalding coffee all over his lap. Once she stormed off toward the backroom, rolling her eyes and calling me a string of unladylike words under her breath.

"I almost forgot how possessive you are," he remarked, squirming in the booth to avoid the scalding coffee. I threw him a handful of napkins from the dispenser. As he was trying to clean himself off I was making designs with the salt and pepper.

"You think we should shag ass before she comes back?" I glanced over to the backroom where the waitress was spewing to her co-workers about what I had said.

Dean took a sip of his coffee, "I think _you_ should shag ass."

"If I go, I'm taking the Impala with me," I remarked, grabbing my jacket from the back of the booth and standing up. My brother's eyes widened and he too stood, fumbling through his wallet to throw a fifty dollar bill on the table.

Dean shoved me playfully on the way to the car; when we slid into the front seat he glanced over with a wide grin and laughed shortly. It surprised me at first but when I finally asked him why he was all kicks and giggles, he simply replied, "You really pissed off that waitress."

"She should know when she's stepping out of her league." I nonchalantly offered him an insight into my esoteric reasoning. "And after all these years, I'm still glad I can surprise you, Dean."

"Get off your high horse, Meggie,"

The engine of the Impala quietly hummed when he turned the key in the ignition. I took another moment to reminisce about my childhood. I thought about the good and not the bad because the bad things will always linger whereas you have to think long and hard about the good things that come your way.

I fit into the front seat better now. My feet could actually touch the ground now. Growing up, I was the one shoved in the back, squeezed between my brothers. When Dean got older and started his growth spurt he was promoted to the seat beside our dad. That just left me inhaling Sam's sweaty odor at close range and trying to dodge the constant rain of wet willies and boyish tugs at my hair. Suddenly the car was empty without him.

You can't make a complete triangle with only two points. It was just Dean and me that would be two points to make a line. On the other hand, we were homeward bound which, I suppose, meant that we were a ray. We could start off at any given point and go off in one direction forever, into infinity if we wanted. But nothing can last forever—not even two Winchester's that had nothing to lose bar none.

"Fill me in," Dean suddenly requested with a hint of inquisitive restriction molding into his words. "Anything change with you? Any new interests? Hobbies?"

"No," I dragged on the blunt word, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "Same old, same old."

"Yeah, I should have known. Once a prude, always a prude."

"Well, this prude," I pointed a finger toward my face. "was offered a top notch job at one of the best hospitals in the mid-west because of her indispensable talents."

"'Indispensable talents'?" His face scrunched up in mock. "You're the girl who took a maple syrup-Gatorade shot on a dare. And Sam got you to wear your clothes inside out for a whole day because you said that Texas was bigger than Alaska."

I shuddered inwardly at the horrific memory of having to go through a whole day at school with the seams of my clothing out.

"Why are you working at a bar if you're supposed to be working?"

"I'm trying to pay off my student debt. It's a slow process but no one said it'd be easy." I glanced out the wind shield at the empty vast road in front of us. "Besides, I get free booze."

Dean should have been congratulating me for having my head on straight; instead there was a momentary lapse of silence. I'd gotten used to silence when I was on my own, that was before I met Steph. I used to sit in my empty apartment with an old, rag-torn copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_ and a bottle of cheap wine. I'm not sure where that book went over the years but I know it got me through my highest highs and my lowest lows.

Up ahead a large billboard welcomed us into the Kansas state line in big white letters. A part of me wanted to go back into my own comfort zone but another part of me told me to keep my mouth shut as Dean unwaveringly drove into our home state.

"How long has it been?" I asked, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep myself together. "How long has it been since you've been back?"

"Including last mid-summer's night," He nodded his head back and forth as if he was in deep thought. "twenty three years."

"Dean, you're 26 now. We left Kansas when you were almost three." Then it hit me like a freight train. "You never went back,"

He nodded. "Too many bad memories."

I knew exactly what he meant. Kansas never represented the gateway to Oz growing up. It represented our family's damnation and the way my brothers and I were orphaned. Whenever I thought about my earliest childhood memories all I could see was my mother's burning body over Sam's crib on November 2, 1983.

_There was a fire and then: Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! and Mommy's with the angels now…_

"Meg," Dean snapped his fingers in my face. "Stop blacking out on me. Get some sleep in the back."

I opened an energy drink and downed most of it before my brother could oppose.

No matter what beginning I started to build, the end result was always the same: give everything up for the welfare of the family. A family could just be a monster sometimes. Not a monster in the sense of the word, demonic, but I'm sure if we looked hard enough we'd find _those _ugly sons of bitches; no, a family was its own kind of monster. It wasn't cruel. It wasn't mean. It was, however, dangerous and inescapable. No matter what I did to clean my slate I found that I couldn't outrun my family. Just like you can't stop the blood that's oozing through your clothes after a bad hunt, you can't outrun your own flesh and blood.

I wasn't always this cynical and unhappy. There was a time when it was okay for me to imagine something great, something wonderful with my entire family before being reminded of the strings and tugs of the past pulling away at my heart.

I can lie and say that I'm fine or I could purse my lips, raise my chin, and carry on like the Winchester I was born to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Much to our dismay, sweetkiwi604 and I do not own any characters from Supernatural. Only Meg belongs to us. **

**Please leave us a review if you liked it :) And, again, drop by sweetkiwi604's page to read her amazing stories. You won't regret it! **

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"Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long." -Susan Scarf Merrell

The second I saw the 'Welcome to Lawrence' sign I was no longer the confident and independent college girl, I was the daughter without a mother and I guess in all reality without a father as well. I knew this was hard for both of us, being back in a town that was only filled with memories of that horrible night that changed our lives for the worst, but it was all we had ever known. A part of me felt guilty Sam wasn't here with us and I knew the rampage he would go on if he ever found out but the other part, a much larger part, was happy he was fifteen hundred miles away blissfully unaware.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked breaking the silence that had fallen between us besides the radio playing so softly you could barely make out the words.

Dean shifted in his seat and switched the hand he was driving with before answering, "We should go home."

For a brief fleeting second I thought he meant to turn around and bring me back to my apartment, to my home, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks what he actually meant.

"It's just a house, it's not _home_," I corrected softly hoping I didn't just start world war three but it had left my lips before I had the chance to stop it.

"It will never be just a house," he replied and I could hear the anger slipping through his calm façade.

I just nodded not trusting that whatever words came out wouldn't be dripping with sarcasm. He obviously knew this was hard for me as well, but in true Winchester fashion we didn't talk about our feelings, we plastered on our smiles and kept our chins up. The phrase, 'I'm fine', was almost automatic even by the elementary years.

"There it is," Dean said quietly as the car stopped across the street from what appeared to be your average white house with a small front porch and a tree in the front yard.

I had seen pictures, or I should say picture, that my dad had kept in his journal but even in the picture it didn't seem like a home. It was just a structure, just four walls, a roof, some plumbing and some electric. That's what I tried to convince myself as I opened the car door and got out.

"You going to be alright?"

"Let me get back to you on that," I answered softly. Dean watched in shock as I strode right up the pathway and by the time I knocked on the front door he had gotten out and leaned against the car.

"Yes?" a young woman answered the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you ma'am, I'm Detective Manners, I'm looking for a person of interest and was hoping you would be able to help me," I replied, internally praying she wouldn't ask for any identification since the day I left that awful motel room I burned them.

"I can try," she smiled and opened the door a little more, "would you like to come in?"

"No," I answered probably a little to harsh but quickly recovered, "I really don't have the time, have you seen this man?" I asked showing her a picture off one of dad's fake id's he had left in the Impala. I watched her expression change slightly as she stared at the picture.

"He came by," she answered the smile long since gone from her face.

"And," I pressed knowing there was more.

"The questions he asked," she shook her head as if trying to forget the whole thing, "about flickering lights and weird scratching noises and cold spots."

"Do you have any of those problems?" I questioned trying to sound as professional as I could but this wasn't just another job, this was personal and personal meant feelings were involved.

"No, look I'm sorry but he was here a couple weeks ago, haven't seen him since. I have to go," she said closing the door in my face but I had been lying to people and people have been lying to me my whole life, something wasn't right.

I walked back over to the car keeping my face as hard as stone knowing if I showed my fear my knees would buckle and I would fall to the ground. Without giving Dean a second glance I got back in the car and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"He hasn't been here in a few weeks," was all I said as Dean got back in the car and studied my every move.

"So, now what?" He let out a long breath then started the Impala, griping the steering wheel and getting ready to go wherever we decided on.

"I don't know," I moodily shrugged, fixated on the gleaming house while trying to wipe the disappointment of having to waste class days just to stop at a dead end off my face, "why don't we just jump on the capitalist bandwagon and see where that takes us?"

"Why do you do that?"

I glanced over at my brother who had furrowed his eyebrows slightly and cocked his head inquisitively. "Do what?"

"You blow things off like you don't give a rat's ass. If I didn't know you better I would think you didn't even want to find dad."

_Guess you don't know me_, I thought, pursing my lips together while digging my nails into my leg as hard as I could. Over the last few years I've grown immensely desensitized to whatever neighborhood of emotional investment that I came across. Dad could take care of himself and I really had no idea on why Dean was so bent on finding the man that shut that door on Sam and for all intense and purposes me as well.

I knew I was being a cynic, but inside every cynical person is a disappointed idealist. There used to be a time I never wanted to leave the subjected comfort of my family because I was afraid of the big bad world. Nowadays, the real world was all I wanted to linger in. It's better being in the dark for your entire life then living without ever seeing the light that's known as normalcy.

"Give me dad's journal," I held out my hand expectantly, "we both know he's not going to keep his nose clean for long, he's bound to have added a few half-assed pointers for us."

I flipped through the crowded pages filled with chicken-scratch that was barely legible. Old news article clippings and crammed drawings littered the yellowing paper. Eventually I saw a neater note in a crusty bare corner that read:

"I went to Missouri and I learned the truth."

"What do you think that means?" I asked, shoving the journal under his nose and pointing at the scribbled statement.

He shrugged, "I always thought he meant the state."

"What if it's not a state? What if it's maybe a person?"

"Dude," he skeptically put his hand up to stop me, "what have you been smoking? Who names their kids 'Missouri'?"

"Who names their kids 'Dean'?" I threw back without filtering the logic and legitimate claim of contradiction through my head.

"Apparently mom and dad," the car pulled out from the house and started cruising down the residential street.

"Yeah, well, mom and dad were smoking something in the 70's."

"Shut up, Meg."

I pulled out my phone ignoring the calls and texts that I had gotten from Steph for the time being and moved on to searching for people named Missouri in Lawrence that would fit the bill.

"I found her," I excitedly looked over at my brother, "Missouri Moseley. She's a practicing…"

"What?" He quickly asked when my self-satisfied smile was wiped clean off my face.

"She's a practicing psychic," I finished flatly, "So, dad went to Tangina Barrons and learned the truth? I don't know, Dean, that sounds pretty vague."

"Give the woman some of that benefit of the doubt you have hoarded away, Meggie. Want some Jesus juice to make you feel better?"

"Dean," I rolled my eyes, "I don't want some old hoodoo formula to make me less edgy. If I wanted to calm down then I would listen to some of that rock and roll that comes straight from the heart."

He snorted with a half a laugh, "Rock and roll doesn't come from the heart. It comes from the crotch."

"Keep telling yourself that," I said patting him on the shoulder as I directed him towards where this Missouri Moseley did her readings.

"If nothing else maybe she can tell you how many kids you're going to pop out," Dean wiggled his eyebrows like an excited child.

"If she says anything besides none, we'll know she's a fake," I laughed at the thought of someone completely depending on me for everything. It took all I had to take care of myself, how exactly was I supposed to take care of someone else?

"You sure this is right?" Dean asked as he pulled up in front of blue house with dark green shutters.

"What did you expect balloons and streamers?" I questioned tucking my dad's journal in the glove box for safe keeping when my phone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID and slightly cringed when I saw Sam's name come up.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Dean asked when I just stared at the phone in my hand.

"No," I shook my head waiting for it to stop ringing so I could put it on silence before getting out of the car and walking up to the door. This time Dean knocked and we only waited a few seconds before the door opened revealing a middle aged black woman.

"Hi, we're…" Dean started pointing to me until she cut him off.

"Dean, Megan," she nodded at both of us, "You sure have grown up to decent looking adults," before turning her attention back to Dean, "and you were one goofy looking kid too."

I tried to cover my laugh with a cough but it was too late Dean had heard me and playfully shoved me.

"Well, come on in," she smiled leading us into her living room and motioning for us to sit down on the couch until she got very serious, "boy, you put your feet up on my table, I'll whack you with a spoon."

This time I didn't even bother to hide my laugh as this woman put my brother in his place.

"I didn't do anything," he argued and shifted in his seat.

"No, but you were thinking it," she told him before looking over to me, "and if you don't call that boy back and tell him you are alright he is going to hunt you down."

Dean looked over to me confused and it was my turn to shift uncomfortably in my seat, "Yes, ma'am."

"So, your daddy is missing?"

"How did you know that?" Dean questioned skeptically.

"The same way I knew you were going to put your feet on my table and that Megan here feels guilty for ignoring Sam's call."

"Sam called?" Dean asked turning his attention toward me.

"Dad said he came to you and he learned the truth. Learned the truth about what?" I questioned ignoring Dean who was still waiting for an answer.

"Well, you could say I drew back the curtain for him and told him about what was really out there."

I couldn't help the small scoff that escaped my lips. So this was the lady that told my dad what went bump in the night and turned our lives upside down.

"Don't you blame me, we both know how hard headed your daddy is."

Again Dean looked over to me with confusion on his face like he was being left out of the conversation.

"Well since you like poking around in my mind, would you like to tell me where he is right now so I could get back to the classes I'm missing?" I questioned with a little more attitude then necessary.

"Watch your tone with me girlie," she warned and I had to bite my tongue before she continued, "he was here a few days ago, there was something going on in your old house but when it moved on so did he."

"It?" Dean asked hoping she could be a little more specific than 'it'. "Would you care to elaborate what 'it' is?"

"Boy, you're daddy's gotten himself in a whole heap of trouble. But you know what," She stuck her finger almost threateningly in Dean's face, making him flinch comically. "There's darkness closing in around you and your sister, Dean. Gettin' closer every day, close enough to sink its hooks into ya. Now, don't be acting like you can just play around with that soul of yours, you hear?"

"I'm sorry," I gingerly put my hands up to interrupt her digressing spiel. "but what does this have to do with our father?"

Missouri straightened herself up, staring down at me with determined ferocity. "How would you two like a nice home-cooked meal?"

Dean's ears perked up immediately but I refused to break the eye contact Missouri held with an almost horrifying steadfastness. I could almost hear her saying,

_"I've tried to see what the future holds for you but I've come up with nothing. Fate hovers, watching, waiting, deciding…but you Winchester's have a way of changing fate, changing destiny. Now, stop gawking like a codfish and help me set the table!" _

I stood obediently, shoving my thumb over my shoulder. "I'll just go set the table."

"Megan," Missouri stopped me in my tracks with one short outburst. I slowly reeled around to look at her stern fixed stare. "Don't you leave poor Sam hanging now. Go on into the back give him a call. No, 'buts', young lady!"

I shut my mouth before I had a chance to open it and unenthusiastically scuffled into her reading room. Before calling Sam, I said a short prayer and punched in my dad's number. It went straight to voicemail.

"I don't know what she wants me to say," I muttered while clicking the down arrow on my phone address book to find Sam's name. "'Hi Sam, Dean and I are at a psychic's den back home in Kansas. Guess what; we're having a swell time watching her saw boney tramps in half.'"

"You okay?" My brother poked his head through the crack in the door. "I heard you talking to yourself. That's never a good sign."

"Neither is looking for a needle in a stack of needles, Dean. Let's face it, dad's long gone." I snapped my phone shut, trying to weasel out of calling Sam. "And he doesn't want us to find him if he keeps dodging our bullets."

"You done?" He asked impassively as if what I had just said had no meaning anymore. So I just nodded, sitting down at the polished table with a bowlful of potpourri set out in an ancient looking bowl. "Meg, we'll find him." Dean reassured before stepping back into the kitchen. I stared down at my phone, forcing myself to dial Sam's number before Miss Cleo poked around in my head and told Dean something he shouldn't know.

"Hey, Sam, you called?"

"Meg, I've been trying to reach you for two days now. I was so worried." My little brother chided rapidly. "I even called Steph and she said that you were with Dean?" His voice was dripping in disbelief.

"I'm just taking a break from work and school, Sammy. It's no big deal," I tried to brush it off. The last thing we needed was Sammy hopping on the next flight out to meet us.

"Please tell me that you're not seriously considering going back, Meg."

"I don't know," I admitted truthfully, picking at the tassels on the tablecloth, "When I figure that one out you'll be the first to know."

I heard him let out an exasperated breath on the other end of the line. "Just…Just be careful, Meg. I want you to be safe."

"'Careful' is my middle name, Samuel." I grinned, ending the call with an appropriate goodbye to keep that awkward formality alive. How could I be anything but safe with my big brother lumbering over me like a bodyguard? Especially now since we apparently had 'a darkness closing in on us' but if you were to ask me we've always had a darkness around our family.

Dean and Missouri were waiting at the table by the time I slipped out of the room. There was a table full of food just waiting to be sucked into the endless abyss which was my brother's stomach.

"Smells great," I complimented flatly, adding enough emotion for Missouri to know that I was being sincere.

She did her weird telepathic thing again and this time I swore she said,

_"I wish you all the luck in this world."_

"This is awesome," Dean managed to say through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Missouri's hand moved so fast to the back of his head that if I blinked I think I would have missed it, "Boy, chew with your mouth closed. I know your daddy taught you better manners than that."

_Wanna bet_, was my first thought and I instantly regretted it when she turned her glare towards me.

"I heard that."

"Well then stay out of my head," I snapped. The whole point of not saying something out loud was so that no one else could hear it; thoughts are personal and here she was invading them.

Dean swallowed the food in his mouth and looked between Missouri and myself like a young child being left out of some adult conversation.

"Look, we appreciate the meal," I told her honestly, "but if you don't have any information or any leads on where our father is then it's really time for us to go."

"He might have mentioned something in Nevada," she said as I stood to leave but she touched my arm to stop me, "whatever your daddy is after is dangerous and you don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

"We can handle it," Dean stated standing up as well as he shoveled one more forkful of food into his mouth.

"Don't be strangers," she called out to us as we left out the front door and headed for the Impala.

I sat in the car fuming, all talking to that woman did was piss me off and give us more questions than answers.

"Looks, like we're off to Nevada," Dean said pulling the car back out onto the street.

"Yeah, maybe we can stop in Las Vegas," I commented dryly and watched the wheels in Dean's brain working on overload.

*****SUPERNATURAL*****

"John Winchester, I could just smack you," Missouri scolded as John leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, "that girl dropped everything to find you even though she has enough anger towards you to knock you out cold."

"I don't want them anywhere near it; they will be safer that way."


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors' Note: _Supernatural _belongs to Lord Kripke. Only Meg and Steph belong to sweetkiwi604 and me. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated. **

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"One day you will do things for me that you hate. That is what it means to be family." - Jonathan Safran Foer, _Everything Is Illuminated_

"Dean, why are we here?" I all but whined as he parked the Impala, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

I looked around at the people who looked like they were dressed for Halloween, the millions of flashing lights adding to the absurdity of this place.

"Because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," he replied getting out of the car with his eyes glued to some show girl's backside.

"Yeah, well," I started uneasily pulling my jacket closer around me. We had always been outcasts, new kids but this was the one town I felt out of place for wearing too many clothes. "Missouri said dad was heading to Nevada, she never said anything about Las Vegas and I've checked his journal three times there's nothing even mentioning Nevada except for one little sentence that reads… 'West Wendover- 1998-werewolf' and I checked that's like 350 miles from here."

"Come on, Meg," Dean rolled his eyes joining me on the sidewalk, "whatever he is hunting has got to be a hell of a lot worse than some werewolf and it won't kill us to at least spend the night in the city and check things out, you know, to be on the safe side."

"You go have fun," I patted him on the shoulder as I turned to find a reasonably priced hotel, but even deep down I knew I would give up the search and easily find my way to a bar stool to wait for Dean to finally decide we could leave.

"Where are you going?" he questioned when he realized I had walked away from him in the opposite direction.

"I have my cell, I'll ask around about dad, you go have fun," I replied as I continued walking but stopped for a second, "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me to be a witness at The Little White Chapel with an Elvis impersonator. If you plan on having 'fun' make sure you wrap it up, I'm not ready to be an aunt."

"Megan," Dean growled furious.

"Hey," I put my hands up with a little laugh, "keep that scandalous side of you in check tonight, hear me?"

"Scandalous?" My brother repeated with a joking surprise. "I still have my pants on."

"I only hope it stays that way," I rolled my eyes, and continued down the crowded street.

"Paranoia is a hell of a thing, Meggie!" He shouted behind me. I could tell he had a wide, mischievous grin on his face that embraced the face-pace run of this town.

That was the thing about Dean that I just couldn't get. We could be in the sleaziest, nastiest, cheapest no-name town in the middle of nowhere and he'd still find something remotely interesting to do, even if, by his book, that fun was marred by the law's decision of being illegal. But this wasn't the sleaziest, nastiest, cheapest no-name city in the middle of nowhere. This was Las Vegas which, coincidentally, _is_ the sleaziest city located in the middle of nowhere.

Once I found a fairly decent-looking motel in one of the back lots from the Strip, I headed straight for O-Shea's to shoot some craps and maybe grab a drink while I was at it. It was a casino for low-rollers, which was the closest thing to my comfort zone since I was generally a low-minimum gambler. I knew that Dean, on the other hand, would decide to crash some poker game with a table filled with high-rollers with five inch sandwiches or scrounge up the closest strip club. That was the difference between my brother and I. He was willing to take chances because he knew he would sell cheap appeal to whomever he met like it was second nature.

"You're walking alone on a cold night," a man dressed in full drag almost bumped into me at the entrance of the Irish-based Casino, "Open your arms and let me in, sugar."

"Maybe later," I quickly dodged him and found the closest poker table that was just about to deal.

Poker games were generally always short, sweet and to the point. While playing it'll always feel like there is an electric tension in the air. You'd either be taking a big risk, or running a big bluff.

I can brag about being good because I grew up with exceptional poker players. I grew up with good liars. My father and my brothers knew their way around the gambling world and that's how I know that I was a better player than any of the guys around the table.

Usually to think that you've got the upper hand is a sure fire way of failing to recognize your own mistakes and the subtle mistakes of those around you. These players can never be good at it because they are insulted by the truth of their loss. Some are hesitant to question his ability or ask what he can do to improve his game. A player can never improve without critical self-analysis for the main reason that his progress will be slow.

A man in a tweed suit and long hair threw down his hand onto the green felt that covered the table top, victoriously declaring, "A pair of aces."

"Sucks," I smiled smoothly and put down two pairs while collecting the money I had just won while everyone groaned and slammed their cards down.

I wandered toward the bar, not in the mood to go all the way to the craps table which was located on the second floor.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender asked as I sat down.

"Whiskey and a whiskey," I replied, checking my phone to see if I had any missed calls, which of course I did including a few text messages. When I looked up the waiter had set a tall glass in front of me.

"Wanna drown the shamrock?" He leaned against the bar with a four leaf clover twirling in between his fingers.

"What's that mean?" I questioned hoping it wasn't just some cheap line to try and get me in bed.

"Oh, it's just an Irish custom when you float a shamrock on top of whiskey before drinking it," he explained, "the Irish believe that if you keep that custom you'll have a prosperous year."

"Sounds fun," I agreed as he let the leaf flutter down into my drink, "but let's face it, everything's prosperous in this neon-clad playground."

"Smile, honey, you have the luck of the Irish in you tonight," he winked before making his way down the bar to take care of another patron that had sat down.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and saw Steph's name, yet again, on the caller ID. So much for luck of the Irish, if I was lucky it would have been dad calling saying where the hell he was but I was a Winchester and we weren't lucky. I wanted to ignore the call like I had the last twenty times but knew if I didn't answer soon she was likely to put a missing persons out on me and that was the last thing we needed.

"Hello?" I answered causally and as expected there was a tyrant waiting for me on the other end.

"Hello? Meg, I've been worried sick about you! You take off in the middle of the night with some guy you claim is your brother and then I can't get a hold of you and then today another one shows up!"

"Another what?" I questioned confused as I twirled the liquid in my glass and watched the four leaf clover dance over the small waves I was creating.

"Another what?" she basically screeched into the phone, "another brother who looks nothing like the other guy you brought by…but I guess if you stare at him long enough he does have your smile."

I nearly choked on the sip I had just taken, "Sam's there?"

"I don't know," she answered and I could hear her talking to someone in the room before coming back on the line, "here talk to him," there was some more shuffling before I heard, "Meg?"

"Sam? What the hell are you doing in Illinois?"

"You say that you're with Dean after how many years? I thought you were like seriously sick and delusional but then I get here and you're gone. Where are you?"

"Honestly?" I laughed a bit, getting ready for him to flip out, "Vegas."

"Wh-what?"

"It's not what you think Samuel."

"Really? Because right about now I'm thinking you spent too many hours with your nose in a book and you're having some kind of mental break."

"Sam, get a grip," I sighed a little annoyed that my younger brother thought I needed a rubber room.

"Let me talk to Dean," he almost demanded, "You say you're with him and thinking about going back into the life, then let me talk to him."

"I'm not with him right this second. It's Vegas, I'll give you three guesses where he is and the first two don't count. Sam, go back to California. Go back to Jessica and go to class," I told him before hanging up.

I sent Dean a quick text with the name of the place and the room number where I would be staying tonight just in case he needed somewhere to crash before ordering another drink.

Vegas was definitely growing on me, it was the one place that was as dysfunctional as my life was at the moment and just as the city would never be colorless and quiet neither would be any situation I would find myself in.

"Got to love this place, huh?" Dean clapped his hand down on my shoulder making me jump a little.

"I figured you would be two strippers in by now," I stated motioning my bartender friend over and ordering him a whiskey with a clover.

"Exotic dancers, Meg, not strippers," he corrected taking a seat on the stool next to me and staring into his glass before looking over to me, "what the hell is that?"

"That is as lucky as you're going to get tonight," I smirked as a scowl formed on his face.

He plucked it out of his glass and flicked it off his finger before raising the whiskey to his lips.

"Sam called me," he started and I inwardly groaned at the thought of the conversation they must have had after not talking for so many years. "Thinks you've gone cuckoo for coco puffs."

"You did tell him that you're the one who came and got me, right?" I asked but the silence was my answer, "Dean, you're going to make him go crazy!"

"Well, crazy is a relative term now isn't it?" he teased as he tugged on my hair.

"I think it's high time we tell Sam what's going on."

"So he can go full Tee Watt Kaa on us? No way," Dean took another slow sip and licked his lips before glancing over at my annoyed expression, "What?"

"Was that necessary, Dean? Honestly? You're comparing our little brother to a pacifistic rodent off _Star Wars_?" I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. He was inconceivable.

"What?" He justified, shrugging. "In my defense, Tee Watt had a sick beard."

I blinked a few times, scrunching my face up menacingly as a sign for him to stop talking immediately. It surprised me how much Dean was like our dad. They were both so set in their ways and never wanted to bend back and ask for help because they thought if they did that would be a sign of weakness and dependency.

"Why'd you come to me, Dean?" I asked, with a spark of sudden realization. "Why didn't you go to Sam to help you find dad?"

"Because Sam wanted it more," was his quick reply.

"Wanted what more?" I countered, not being able to reduce the hostility in my tone. "A normal life? You don't think I'd kill just to be able to settle down without having that sickening feeling of justifying myself to you and dad hanging over my head the entire time?"

"We're your family, Meg," he snapped, "The least you owe us is some sort of an explanation."

"I don't owe you shit, Dean." I got up from the bar, briskly walking outside, leaving my brother behind to pay for the drinks and hurry after me. "And I most certainly don't owe dad anything. The man was more than okay with keeping that bridge burned to the ground all these years."

"Maybe he did that so you could study and have a normal life."

I scoffed. My father would have given up his own soul if it meant popping the creature that killed our mom. He didn't give a crap about us but I wasn't about to say that to my brother forthrightly so I just resorted to agreeing.

"Yeah, maybe."

We didn't speak until we had made a grueling walk through the mass crowds and thick air which was heavy with lust, booze, and money. The small room was rickety and crammed but that didn't stop me from collapsing on the closest bed to stretch out my tired body.

"Stop watching me creeper," I complained, not raising my head from the pillow, almost willing the sleep to come.

"I'm not watching you," he defended and was quiet for a few more seconds before admitting, "I just don't know if it's a good idea to get him involved anymore."

I rolled over to face where he was sitting, "And you talk about my mood swings. Dean, it was your idea to get him in the first place."

"Yeah, well, now according to Missouri we have 'a darkness closing in on us'," he said in his best mimicking voice, even impersonating Missouri's body language, "and I think he should stay as far away from us as possible."

"Where do you think he would be safer? By himself when he isn't expecting it or with the two of us who will do everything in our power to make sure he'll be alright?" I questioned, silently wondering if I would be sitting here at all if Dean had gone to see Missouri before showing up at the bar that night which seemed so long ago.

"Fine," he eventually nodded, "we explain what we know, but he gets to make the decision if he comes with us or not."

I buried half of my face back into the pillow, letting out a long breath. I was the one who wanted to leave Sam out of it in the first place but I couldn't help resent the fact that Dean came to me first and pulled me out of the fantasy world I build from scratch. Over the years a part of me wanted to forget about the things that go bump in the night entirely but another part of me—the stronger part—wanted to shield Sam from ever stopping halfway through his climb up the corporate ladder.

Sam had a choice. Dean and I will make sure that no matter what there would always be a way out for him even if it meant that we have to sink down into the depths of darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

"If a man has not a good reason for doing something, he has one good reason for letting it alone." -Sir Walter Scott

Siblings. An unbreakable bond no matter how many years have passed or what has been said. They are a built in best friend, someone to talk to, someone to lean on when the weight of the world gets too heavy, and someone to protect until your last breath.

Dean, Sam and I spent many hours crammed in the Impala and dingy motel rooms. During our the early years dad called us the three musketeers, if one went left we all went left, if one went right we all went right and when we got bullied at school it only took one menacing look from Dean. As we got older we changed, Dean followed in my father's footsteps often causing arguments since Sam and I felt differently.

Sam and I were close as close could be until I left for college and I couldn't help but feel guilty for going to tell him I was back hunting with Dean. A part of me, no matter how small it might have been, always knew I would get dragged back into this life one way or another and as much as I wanted Sam to be able to keep his normal life I would never forgive myself if something ever happened to him.

And then there was Dean. I think the best word to describe my relationship with Dean throughout the last ten years of our life would be rocky. I always struggled to understand the forces that drove his soul in one direction and mine in another. The topside said that the only difference between him and me were the choices we make but on the flipside happiness was never good enough for me. I demanded euphoria. Dean, I could almost laugh; Dean could make well with whatever destiny threw at him. He was resourceful like that because that was all he knew when the entire world - including his whole family - abandoned him as if he was the black sheep.

"You sure this is a good idea?" I wondered out loud, wrapping my arms around my knees as the rain pounded down on the Impala's roof on the way to California. The closer we got the more unsure I became with the fact that we were doing the right thing, even if it was my suggestion to begin with.

"Would you stop worrying, Meg? It doesn't suit you."

"Dean, I'm just trying to rack my mind for any other option we have. Level with me here. He's happy and secure but at the same time he's on the other side of the spectrum and it's our job to protect him by avoiding bashing skulls. How do you square that?"

"We're going, Meg," he said resolutely, an arm casually resting on the top of the seat. "Like I told you, he has a choice. He can tag along if he wants. If not then we'll divvy up the work. Sound good?"

I nodded, trying to talk myself into buying what he was saying but even I knew deep down that Dean wasn't going to leave without a fight. Sam is a grown man. He can take care of himself with or without me or Dean for that matter. But then why couldn't I wait to get to Palo Alto?

"Besides," he continued casually, "technically it's my job to protect you and you're still with me."

I had to bite my lip before the bitter laugh escaped. Of course Dean would never intentionally put me in the line of fire and would literally give his last breath if it meant saving me or Sam but to say he thought about any of that before showing up at the bar that night would be a lie.

"How about some tunes," Dean suggested reaching over and turning the knob until a station came in without too much static.

_I see the bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightin'. I see bad times today. Don't go around tonight, well, it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise._

"Music is overrated," he stated quickly clicking the radio back off, the only noise coming from the gentle purr of the engine, the pounding of the rain and the hypnotizing movements of the wipers.

After a dozen or more stops at dark, dirty bathrooms and convenience stores over the span of nine hours, Dean finally took the exit winding into Palo Alto. Even in the light of the setting sun I could make out the tall palm trees that were scattered off along the asphalt. Illinois would be considered a hillbilly eyesore compared to the Sunshine state.

I vaguely remembered the right apartment from the last time I had visited Sam, though that time I was excited to see how he was doing. Now I was just nervous.

"Are you _really_ sure about this?" I whispered loudly to Dean as we stood in the hallway of their apartment building.

"Well I didn't drive all the way here to stare at the door," he replied bring his knuckles up and rapping them on the door three times.

"Did you forget your keys again?" Jessica joked as she opened the door and not suppressing the look of shock that came across her face when she saw me, "Meg?"

"Surprise," I forced a smile and gave her a small hug as she let us in.

Glancing around the living room I could see they had added more pictures and trinkets since the last time I was there.

"Jess, this is Dean," I introduced the two and had to elbow him in the side as his eyes traced every inch of her.

"I have to say you are way out of my brother's league," he said absentmindedly licking his bottom lip.

"Yes, Dean, she is out of your league," I laughed patting him on the shoulder, "So, where is the poster boy of normal?"

"Went to pick up Chinese, he should be back any minute," she replied as she played with the hem of her shirt clearly feeling uneasy with Dean being there and kept her attention on me, "is everything ok?"

"Oh yeah," I easily lied, "just road tripping and thought we would stop by. You know we saw the world's second largest ball of twine."

"Was that before or after Vegas?" she questioned, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.

I couldn't help but laugh shortly and put my hands up in surrender, "it was Dean's idea."

"I'm sure," she let out a rippling sort of laugh that made me want to curl up in jealousy. "Men never really grow up, do they, Meg?"

"No definitely not, they just get older," I elbowed my older brother's side, right about to sit down when Sam came through the door and stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on us.

His gaze passed from me to Dean and then to Jess. "What are you guys doing _here_?"

"You wanted proof, didn't you?" I countered with my own question, motioning to Dean whose eyes never left our younger brother's face.

"I believed you, Meg," Sam quickly laid an old dish rag on the counter before placing the bag filled with Chinese down to soak the oil seeping through the bottom. "I just never thought you'd come all the way here."

"Well we did," Dean cut in, "and we need your help. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Whatever you want to say," Sam resolutely wrapped an arm around Jess' shoulder, "you can say in front of her."

I decided to explain, sensing the hostility and indifference in the room between my brothers. "Sam, dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days. Don't say he's working overtime on a Miller time shift 'cause you and I both know hangovers don't last this long."

"He'll stumble in sooner or later, Meg," Sam pressed looking me straight in the eyes with an intense confidence and clarity that bore through my composed self.

"Do you really think I'd be with John McClane here," I cocked my head over to Dean, "if I believed that?"

"Yippee kiay motherfu-"

I slammed my hand over Dean's mouth before he had a chance to finish. Sam was visibly considering any outlet of possibilities that I had long since contemplated and failed to find. He let out a blunt breath and hesitantly said,

"I mean, come on, Meg. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

"We didn't…" I started to argue the clear point that it was, in fact, dinner time, not the middle of the night and that Jessica had answered the door we did not, in fact, break in but I was cut off by Dean.

"That's exactly what we expect you to do," he insisted in a dull undertone, his short fuse burning lower and lower. "You're not hearing us, Sammy. Dad's missing and we have to find him. I even dragged along Meg so that means that there're bigger fish to fry."

"Jess," Sam's eyes motioned us toward the door, "excuse us, we have to go outside."

Once all three of us were out in the hallway outside of the apartment, our shoulder's relaxed without having to choose our words carefully if we were in front of Jess.

"I know you're going to use that poltergeist in Amherst or the Devil's Gate in Clifton as an excuse," I stood between my brothers, feeling like I was being thrown into the middle of another childish conflict. Ever since we were younger, I was always the peacekeeper when it came to Sam and Dean and it seemed that distance and age hadn't changed anything. "The whole fact that I'm here should be a clear sign that this isn't just some cheap ruse to get you to come back. You know that's the last thing we'd want. I understand it wasn't easy, Sam, but it sure as hell wasn't _that_ bad."

"Yeah? Is that a fact, Meg? Remember when I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet and he handed me a .45?" He spat out with a bitter scoff.

"You got to let it go, Sam." I said firmly, about to wonder why we was being so stubborn and fighting so hard but then realizing that this was the same exact fight I put up with Dean a few days back. "I mean, come on, Sammy, you just flew to Illinois because I didn't answer a few of your calls. Don't you think you should be reacting differently when we show up at your apartment unannounced to tell you that dad's missing?"

"I don't owe him anything, Meggie."

"Neither do I. Hell, the man was like the Mozart of burning bridges. He told me to never come back but here I am because, like it or not, we're family, deeper than bone. And honestly, I'd rather you be with us than alone in your own apple pie life."

Sam looked at the both of us, and inkling of moral responsibility finally dawning on him. "This isn't what mom would have wanted for us."

And we were back to square one. I pulled out my gun, much to the surprise of both of my brothers, put it in Sam's hand and aimed it at my head, holding the muzzle in place against my forehead.

"What are you doing, Meg?" Sam tried to pull back in shock but I held his fingers around the trigger firmly.

"What am I doing, Sam?" I repeated with a hint of pretension. "Oh, that's the kicker; it's just something I picked up from Batman's arch nemesis. It's the illusion of choice. I'm giving you the option to kill me, to end all of this madness and screwed up conspiracies about what goes bump in the night."

"Dean, aren't you going to weigh in?" Sam cried, still flabbergasted. Dean just shook his head, clearly understanding what point I was trying to convey.

"I get it, Sam, trust me I do," I continued, staring down at his shoes from my uncomfortable stance, "we're bad pennies. You can either kill me and go on with your life or you can join our rank of the insane. The choice is simple because there isn't one. We're just marching to the beat of a _very_ screwed up drum."

"Fine," he growled, whipping his hand back so I held the gun by the slide, and went inside to pack his duffel while Dean and I walked down to the Impala.

"How long have you been practicing that?"

"A very long time," I admitted with a sheepish laugh, leaning against the hood of the car with my arms crossed tightly against my chest.

"Illusion of choice, huh? Gotta admit, Meg, that was pretty deep." He mirrored my actions, throwing an approving glance my way.

"He spent too much time focusing on the end result when he should have been concentrating on the actions I took to get my point across the table."

"As counter words of wisdom, can I just say that if you stare at the finger you use to point at the moon then you'll miss the heavenly glow?"

"Thank you, Mr. Miyagi. You really should have said that in a Japanese accent."

I slid into the familiarity of the backseat as Sam walked over to us and threw his bag in the trunk. I didn't miss the grin on Dean's face to have his family back working together as he pulled out onto the residential street.

"Where are we headed?" Sam asked in such a tone that you could tell he was still reluctant about coming with us.

"Concrete, Washington," Dean replied making me sit up a little straighter in my seat, not aware that we had a specific destination in mind.

"And why are we going there?" I questioned watching his face through the rearview mirror.

"Because that's where the coordinates point to," he answered tossing me his cell phone that I easily caught.

Sure enough there was a text from an unknown number, _48N, 121W_.

I leaned back in my seat with a firm grip on the phone. This had better be where our dad was for all of our sakes.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own Supernatural. Wish we did. Or at least wish we had a joint-custody agreement and got to spend time with it every other weekend with supervised visitation. Oh well…**

* * *

"All problems become smaller if, instead of indulging in them, we confront them. Touch a thistle timidly and it pricks you; grasp it boldly, and the spines crumble." - William S. Halsey

Dean drove down the highway humming along to the music and tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the drums. It was the happiest I have seen him in the last couple days, hell it's the happiest I had seen him in a long time and I hoped that for his sake it would last. I couldn't really blame him though this was his idea of a good time, the three Winchester siblings taking on the world, even if Sam and I felt differently. My eyes shifted over to Sam who was on his smart phone trying to figure out if there truly was a job in Concrete, Washington or any indication that it's where our father was. I watched as his fingers slid over the screen, his face scrunched up in concentration and that's when a thought occurred to me.

"Hey guys," I spoke up causing Dean to turn the music down slightly but not all the way off and Sam to look up from his phone, "you don't think dad has purposely gone missing, do you?"

"What?" Sam questioned his nose twitching just like it did every time he asked something in disbelief.

"Who goes missing on purpose?" Dean added with a sigh that told me he thought I was insane. "That's like saying someone purposely gets murdered or…or…I don't know that Sam purposely doesn't cut his hair because he knows you always wanted a sister."

"Hey!" Sam protested subconsciously running a hand through his wavy hair sticking some behind his ear.

"No, think about it," I sat up a little straighter in the seat trying to get back to my original thought, "What if dad isn't really missing? What if he is doing all of this to get the three of us hunting together again? I mean think about it, what better way to get back at Sam and me for leaving in the first place?"

Sam seemed to be thinking over what I said, contemplating the possibility of the whole scenario while Dean wasn't having any part of it.

"Dad is missing, Megan, I highly doubt it has anything to do with you or Sam for that matter. A little high and mighty there, don't you think?"

"I'm just saying…" I trailed off when I saw the look of anger in Dean's eyes.

"I think your good friend Missouri would have said something if that was true instead of warning us about some darkness." Dean stated putting extra emphasis on the word 'your' as if to say I was the one who dragged him there to meet Miss Cleo as part of some horrible practical joke.

"What darkness?" Sam asked looking over to Dean and then back to me clearly upset that we had left that little detail out. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing, never mind," I replied leaning back in my seat. I should have never voiced my opinion in the first place. There was no need to have Sam worrying about us more than he normally did.

"So, what do you got on those coordinates, college boy?" Dean asked glancing over in his direction not wanting to elaborate on the subject anymore than I did.

"Honestly? Nothing that exciting," Sam answered scrolling through a webpage, "the only thing I could find was some reports of a supposed ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility."

"Women, showers. We need to save these people," Dean declared pressing down on the gas pedal.

"So," I started slowly, trying to get the feel of the conversation again. "You gonna give us a full dissertation on the peeking Tom-ghost or what?"

Sam eyed me through small mirror on the back of the sun visor. Even though I could only see that back of his head from where I sat, I could tell that he had his lips set in a firm line. He sensed the stressed attempt at casualty in my voice and gave me a reassuring shrug.

"Sam," Dean suddenly broke the chain of unspoken words exchanged between my younger brother and me, "continue."

"Yeah, I see you're very interested," Sam put out with a small chuckle, looking back down at his phone and zooming in to read the small print. "The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs."

"He just left us holding the bag…again," I looked out the window and mumbled under my breath.

Dean cupped his hand behind his ear, eyeing my through the rearview mirror, "What was that Megan?"

"Guys," Sam looked between us, obviously feeling a bit overwhelmed in this circumstance. "Can we stop this before we're all too far gone?"

"Oh no, you heard me just fine, Dean." I sat up from slouching against the seat, my back as straight as a wooden post, ignoring my younger brother's plea for us to just drop it. "We're just lone guerrilla in a civil war that isn't going to end easy. Dad is eluding us…I don't know why. But I know he is and he just expects us to make a living by doing the best we can."

"Well, boohoo," My older brother sneered sarcastically. "Christmas is ruined. Will it really kill you to not question him once? To do what he says just once and not be such a buzz kill?"

It just might, I thought bitterly in my head. "I should be back in my apartment with Steph studying and writing papers about polycentric cultural norms not out on some wild goose chase to find a man that doesn't want to be found."

"And there you go with the mood swings again, Meggie, I swear you need to come with a warning label or something," Dean shook his head in a frustrated matter. "You know, you always used to pick a side of an argument and stick to it. Now? Now, it seems you can't even remember what you are fighting about you just want to be the one that picks the opposite of everything we say just to be difficult."

"Well, Winchester is still my last name so I guess difficult comes with the goodie bag," I spat out angrily.

"Guys," Sam gently interrupted, calm and poised. "Fact of the matter is that dad isn't here right now but maybe he'll be in Washington. So, can you two just shut up?!"

"Ain't you a peach," our brother muttered under his breath before reaching over to turn the volume dial up. I swear, fighting with Dean was a lost cause - it was like trying to prove you're sane in a mental hospital.

"What if we're making a big mistake?" I manage to say through the racking throbs in my throat.

"Wouldn't be the first time, Meg," Sam craned his head back with a reassuring smile. "Gives us a chance to outdo ourselves."

We drove all day stopping once to siphon some gas from an abandoned car on the side of the road and once again because Sam needed to empty his bladder after drinking three sips of my water bottle. When the sun started to go down Dean took the first exit in the mindset to find the closest bar.

"Awesome," Dean grunted across from me at the table, taking a small sip of beer and holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. "Of all the bars in Skykomish we had to come to the one that specializes only in Motown."

"What's wrong with Motown?" I threw back, failing to see the point of his comment. "Diana Ross has an excellent voice."

"I'm sure she does but it's not classic rock," Sam said halfway through getting up from the table to find a bathroom.

I smirked in response, running my fingertip along the mouth of the beer mug in front of me. "I swear he has the bladder the size of a peanut."

Just then the overly-cheery waiter with suspenders covered in flair, his hair slicked back and combed to one side so it hung over his eyes like it was the 90's appeared next to our table.

"Radical. What else can I get you guys?"

"Are you implying," I snapped, placing both palms flat against the checkered tabletop, "that I look like a guy?"

"What?" The waiter cringed, his smile wiped clean off his face. "No, ma'am. I wasn't implying that at all!"

"Uh," Dean broke in to save the kid, who couldn't be more than seventeen, from my definition of fun. "I think we're good."

"Yeah?" The waiter turned all his attention to Sam when he sat beside me. "You want to try a couple of fryer bombs? Or a chipotle chili changa? Listen, bros. You have got to try our ice cream extreme. It's extreme."

"Bros?" I questioned with an eyebrow raised. Did we not just go through this? "How about I give you an extreme wedgie?" I warned, calmly looking up at the waiter who shrunk back under my gaze. "Get your extremities out of my face and just get us the check."

"Y-y-yes ma'am," he stuttered tripping over his own feet as he scurried over to the counter for our check.

"Someone should have slept in the car," Dean mumbled with a shake of his head bring his beer back to his lips.

"You didn't have to be so rude, Meg, he was just being friendly," Sam sighed giving me a pointed look.

"And? I was having fun," I shrugged dismissively. I knew Sam was right, and I probably was just a smidge rude to the teenager with enough creativity to be the Picasso of his generation but all the over-the-top cheery, happy-go-lucky attitude that was literally oozing out of him was more than I could handle.

The more I thought about it the more I believed my father wasn't going to be in Washington but voicing my opinion had gotten me nowhere so instead of starting yet another argument I managed to kept my mouth shut, at least for the time being, and silently followed my brothers to the car after Dean left a sizable tip for the waiter.

We found a reasonably priced motel and Dean went in to get us a room while I stretched next to the car.

"Interesting isn't it?" Sam questioned throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder and handing me mine.

"Naked women being haunted?" I retorted unsure of what he was talking about.

"No," he laughed and motioned with his head to where Dean was walking out of the office, "how much things really haven't changed."

"Yeah," I nodded, walking over to the room Dean had gotten for us but I was lying.

Things had changed, hell, everything had changed. We weren't the Winchester siblings taking on evil anymore; we were three very different people who happened to be related. We were bonded with memories, blood and responsibility. I watched as Sam checked his voicemail his whole face lighting up at just the sound of Jessica's voice. I found myself wanting to read my old comforting book of The Catcher in the Rye. Then there was Dean who was lounged on the bed with a beer in his hand flipping through the television channels looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Hey, Meggie, look what's on," Dean smirked sitting up a little straighter against the headboard and turning the volume up. "We should play, you know, get you out of whatever mood you are in at the moment."

"Dean, we're supposed to be finding dad or even working a job, not playing some drinking game you and Meg made up to amuse yourselves," Sam sighed putting away his cell phone and looking over to me as I contemplated the idea.

Sam was right, it was a game that Dean and I had made up many years ago when dad forbade us to leave the motel room. When we were younger Indiana Jones used to be Dean's idol, and I suppose still could be, so we just had to watch it every time it was on. As we got older we turned it into a drinking game. Every time anyone would mention the Holy Grail you would take a shot, every time someone was shot at you took a drink of your beer and every time a commercial came on we would get up spin in a circle three times and take another shot without falling over. The first time we played was the best with Dean falling face first into the dresser after his second spin but in his defense it was towards the end of the movie.

"We'll start fresh in the morning," Dean waved off Sam's comments before also turning his gaze to me as if I would be the deciding vote. The look in his eyes was one I had a hard time saying no to. "Come on, it's a marathon."

"Fine," I huffed grabbing a beer and a bottle of whiskey I had stashed in my bag and plopping down on the bed next to him. "But only one movie."

"Where are those damn shot glasses?" Dean rummaged through his rucksack, pulling out two glasses and putting it on the bedside table.

A wide grin etched my face when I held the glass which I had picked up from Mount Rushmore years ago, and said over my shoulder, "I can't believe you still held on to these."

"See," my brother nudged me playfully, switching the channel, "you're less of a pain in the ass already."

"Whoa," I reeled back when I saw what movie he switched it to. "We are not playing this to _Lord of the Rings_."

"You said one movie." Dean threw the remote to Sam so I couldn't reach it from where I sat beside him on the bed.

"You're really trying your best to get killed, aren't you?" I joked, "What can I say, small things amuse small minds. Should I just sign my will right now or should I wait 'til we're completely inebriated to split assets?"

"Shut up," I felt Dean's hand clumsily trying to cover my mouth as Gollum's origin's started with the eerie music. Sam coughed loudly, trying to cover his snickering. "What are the rules for_ The Return of the King_?"

"Every time Legolas does something bad-ass we take a sip of beer." I laid down the ground rules. "And whenever we see the One Ring on screen we down a shot." When I looked back at Dean he was scribbling on a pad of motel stationary. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," he bemusedly grunted, continuing to scribble something on the pad. "Just writing out my suicide letter explaining why we're so self-destructive."

"Because we're so drop-dead gorgeous and can afford to be self-destructive." I finished with a smug tilt of my head, getting off the bed and turning up the volume on the television to drown out my brother's low mumbling. Just then the scene when Deagol first saw the ring came up and I hurriedly poured out two shots of whiskey. Thrusting one to Dean while halfway through upending mine.

"Ah, damn," he caught the alcohol in his mouth before it made a mess on the bed sheets.

As soon as he put his head down, I grabbed the glass again and poured another round since the ring came up several times in those few minutes. In my hurry, most of the liquid spilled on the furniture and dripped onto the floor.

"That wasn't so bad," Dean let out a burp, pounding his chest with his fist since he was drinking too quickly. "Man, Meg, we're not drinking to enjoy we're drinking to destroy!"

"Ew, that was warm," I stuck my tongue out and shivered slightly, looking at the empty glass I just consumed. "Haven't had that much hard liquor in a long time."

"Really?" Sam looked up from texting on the next bed. "Didn't you have a steady job at a bar?"

"Haven't you heard of 'no drinking on the job'?" I looked from the movie back to my little bother, fumbling to pour another round when Frodo had a close up with the ring.

"Yeah, just didn't think you've heard of it," Sam mumbled turning his attention back to his phone. "Can you two even get drunk anymore?"

"Meg, you're like the fittest one between the three of us," Dean looked over, rubbing his jaw with his hand ignoring Sam's comment. "You just messed it up by being rigid."

We could enjoy the next twenty minutes or so of the movie in peace before the commercials started rolling around and Orlando Bloom had more screen time. I held out well enough, pressing a hand against my abdomen two hours in to keep my head straight and the liquor inside. Then things started to get hazy.

"Hey Meg," Dean nudged me, rubbing his acting head with one hand while gripping his third bottle of beer in his other hand. "Let's go dress up like Batman and Robin and patrol the neighborhood."

"No," I dragged out, not being able to help letting out a snorted giggle. "But then again, the idea has possibilities…I think you got me drunk."

"Look," he cried out, pointing at the television screen at the large creatures pulling Grond onto Pelennor Fields. "Look at that dog playing in the mud!"

I stretched my neck forward, eyes squinted to focus on the dark animals. "That's a rhinoceros."

"Well, it looks like a dog to me."

"A dog with horns?" I jumped to my feet, wavering for a moment, before forcing myself to spin in a circle three times, hands tightly clapped against my mouth. I dry gagged when I put the shot glass against my lips but swallowed it anyway.

After making my brother do the same, he fell back on the bed, propping himself up on the pillows before saying, "Oh, I see them now."

That was the last thing I remembered.

"Good morning," Sam basically sang, opening the door slowly, trying not to disturb his ailing siblings. But the slow creak of the ancient door hinges made me wince.

"Oh God, just open the door, Sam!" I groaned rolling over to try and go back to sleep and that's when I noticed the feet in my face. Sitting up a little straighter I noticed Dean and I had somehow managed to sleep horizontally on the same bed. "Get up," I nudged his feet away from my face and turned to see he had his head mushed against the phone on the bedside table and was curled up with a pillow.

"No," he grunted his voice thick with sleep.

"Guys, come on," Sam sighed placing a large coffee in each of our hands in an attempt to wake us up and get us moving. "I've already interviewed the woman who got attacked in the shower but now there's something else."

"Ow," I winced rubbing my temples to get the throbbing pain to go away.

"There's more than naked women?" Dean questioned excitably sitting up and leaning against the headboard. I couldn't help but bust out laughing no matter how much it hurt my head to do so and Sam joined in. "What?"

"I wish I could call Ghostbusters on your face," I replied pointing out the impressions of the phone buttons on his skin.

"Ha ha," he mocked, rubbing his cheek while looking like a kid who just got pinched by his bearded aunt.

"Guys," Sam got our attention with a look of annoyance on his face. "Like I said, there's more…I'm not saying the guy wasn't off his rocker but he was telling the cops he saw Bigfoot."

"And we're the ones who drank last night," I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah and then I saw this," Sam said handing me over his cell phone and showing me a picture of, well, a big foot print.

"Sammy, I think that light-bulb's got Bigfoot mistaken for your footprints." I accidentally hit the previous button as I went to hand the phone over to Dean when I pulled it back toward me quickly.

"What?" Dean questioned.

"You didn't?" I nearly hissed at Sam as he snatched his phone back.

"Oh, I did," he laughed.

"Delete it, now," I instructed with as much authority in my voice that I could muster up but he just laughed again.

"No, it's blackmail."

"What?" Dean repeated looking between the two of us. He let out a pained groan that probably would have been more at home coming from Chewbacca as he rolled over in bed to sit beside me on the edge. His hands blindly reaching up to rub his forehead and the bridge of his nose in an attempt to wake himself up.

"He took pictures of us last night," I sighed and hung my head in embarrassment.

"So?" Dean questioned still not seeing the problem.

"I'm wearing a lampshade on my head and you have a bed sheet tied around your neck like a cape," I explained.

"No way," Dean shook his head but Sam held his phone up so he could see and a look of horror flashed across Dean's face, "Delete it. Now!"

"I was right," Sam smiled with self-satisfaction, "some things never change."

"What is that smell?" I looked around absently, tasting the acid from my low gut start filling my mouth when I saw the Styrofoam box filled with hot bacon and sausages.

My mouth became watery and filled with a salty sourness that I knew meant that my upchuck reflex were tingling. Apparently, Dean had the same premonition 'cause we both made a bee line straight for the bathroom. Since my wonderful brother took up most of the space over the toilet, I emptied the contents of my stomach in the sink, blinding groping for the faucet handle.

"Try holding your liquor next time," Sam leaned against the bathroom door, lips pulled together in a motherly sniff. "Whole day was almost wasted on just trying to get you two out of bed."

"It's only," Dean blinked futile attempts to focus clearly on the face of his wrist watch. "three in the afternoon? You got bacon and sausages at three in the afternoon?"

"I thought you guys would like the greasy breakfast."

I reached back to firmly pat my little brother's forearm, which was as far as I could reach from standing doubled over the sink, appreciative of his help. "At least you didn't get one of those fruity drinks that you hippies think is healthy."

I could tell that Sam flashed one of his trademarked bitch-faces before snapping, "It's not fruity. It was carrot juice."

"Not what she meant by fruity, Princess..." Dean muttered, feeling a smirk come to his lips. "Just… remind us never to get that shit-faced again, okay Sammy?"

"As if you two will listen to me," Sam snorted and disappeared into the main room, pulling at his tie.

The only coherent reply Dean could give was a prolonged moan as his face sunk deeper into the porcelain sink. I washed my mouth out, beads of cold sweats starting on my forehead as I stumbled back to bed, pulling the soft white top-pillow near my flushed cheeks.

_God bless Holiday Inn and their hospitality._

"It's all gone," My older brother groaned, falling beside me and pulling the blankets toward him instead.

"Better gone than coming back up again," I yanked the sheets back with the little strength I could muster.

"I don't mean the whiskey, Meg."

"Then what do you mean?"

"The beer."

I felt the empty case of beer that he threw over land on my shoulder then fall on the floor.

"You two need some aspirin or something?" Sam wiped the crumbs of the bacon, sausage, and egg breakfast with a napkin, clapping his hands loud enough for Dean and me to jump.

I looked up at my younger brother, my green eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "Doesn't work. Myth," I mumbled – my mouth mostly obscured by the bedding.

"I remember," He grinned wide like the Cheshire cat from that old Disney movie _Alice in Wonderland_. "I'll just go out and round up some sloppy joe in a dirty ashtray."

I had to summon up all my willpower to stop myself from attacking Sam, which ended up being much easier when I found it was impossible to stand on my own.

An hour later and my head was still throbbing.

My hangover remained the vicious elephant in the room – a room which also included a thoroughly passed-out, 180 pound man.

"Here," Sam held out a tall glass of chocolate milk. "drink up. Jess always says that her best remedy for a hangover was chocolate milk."

I nearly choked trying to drink it. Sammy might be the one person on the planet who could screw up a glass of freakin' chocolate milk. Despite this, I smiled past my harsh coughs. "Sam, you are a saint."

"Sleep it off for a couple of more hours." He laughed gently, "I'm going to do a supply run."

"Remember the beer, Samson," I waved the arm that wasn't pinned under my body at him as he walked out the door.

As Dean let out a loud snore next to me I couldn't help but smile. So, this might not be what I had planned, and I definitely never thought I would be hunting again, but being here with both brothers was kind of nice. I had missed my family whether I wanted to admit it or not.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: We do not own Supernatural. Wish we did. Or at least wish we had a joint-custody agreement and got to spend time with it every other weekend with supervised visitation. Oh well…there aren't many legit wishing wells out there for us to scramble to.**

* * *

"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes to us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday." -John Wayne

The next morning I was back to my old self. It felt amazing waking up without a headache and to see that the room wasn't spinning.

"So, where do you want to start?" Dean asked walking out of the bathroom after spending almost twenty minutes standing under the shower even after I banged on the door repeatedly for him to hurry up but he just muttered something about re-hydrating.

"We wanted to start an hour ago," I mumbled getting impatient.

"The prints," Sam spoke up quickly hoping to cover my sarcastic comment and avoid yet another argument between Dean and me. "We should start there."

"But Bigfoot, really? Come on, man, every hunter knows that's just a myth," Dean disputed. "I mean if he was really out there don't you think that _someone_ at _some point_ in time would have seen him?"

"Maybe he's just really good at hiding," I smirked following Sam out the door, "I vote we check it out so it's two against one. We can even start a pool." Between my middle and ring finger I held up a twenty dollar bill. "Andrew Jackson gets you in."

Dean snatched the keys out of Sam's hands before digging in his pocket for his wallet, confident that he would win the bet. "I see your shaggy haired president and I raise you a Benny Franklin. We both know how much you love him, Meg. I'm driving," with that he stormed over to the Impala, all smiles because he was so sure he'd be a hundred and twenty dollars richer by the end of the hour.

I wanted to make another snarky comment but thought better of it as I slid into the backseat while Sam directed us to where he had taken the picture of the footprint.

After getting out of the car I couldn't help but stand with my mouth hanging open in amazement and incredulity. There, right in front of us, were several tracks of very large footprints.

"You're going to catch flies that way," Dean commented pressing up on my chin to close my mouth.

"Told you," Sam smiled victoriously that he had proven to us that there was indeed _something_ making these tracks.

"Alright, Samson, let's go. And Dean," I held my hand out, "Pay up."

With a groan, my brother pulled the hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and moodily slapped it into my hand.

I cleared my throat loudly and motioned with my finger for him to keep going. "You raised me a Benny which means you still owe me an Andrew, big brother." He gave me a death glare that I easily returned before he pulled out a twenty and slammed it against my hand with a loud sigh. "Nice doing business with you."

The skies gradually got darker as we followed the winding footprints but we stayed silent all lost in our own thoughts trying to figure out what we would see or where it would lead to until I head Sam start mumbling under his breath.

"Seriously, Sam?" I straightened my back and questioned in disbelief as I saw him trying to hide an involuntary flinch as a sharp crack of thunder was heard off in the distance.

"I'm fine," he rolled his eyes brushing the question off though he went back to humming what sounded like Jason Manns trying to keep himself calm.

***Flashback***

We were stuck in another random motel room, in another no name town while dad was out killing another demon of the week when a loud clap of thunder made Sam bolt off the chair he was sitting on so he could take cover in between the two double beds.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean asked glancing down at his small trembling body from his spot on the bed where he had been watching television.

"It's just thunder, you goober," I shook my head looking up from the book I had been engrossed in. Even we Winchesters had our own fears. For Dean it was flying, for Sam it was thunderstorms and personally I wasn't too fond of spiders.

"There's a monster out there," Sam squeaked out in fear.

"Yeah," Dean laughed but stopped after I had shot him a warning glance. See Sam still thought my father was a salesman, not the superhero Dean thought he was, and not the insane person I thought he was for dragging us from town to town and school to school.

"Sam, it's just clouds colliding together making a really loud noise," I tried to explain hoping that my little geek brother would appreciate the science behind it.

"Nu-uh, we're not safe," he replied not moving from his spot and jumping a little when another crack came.

I let out a long sigh, folding the corner of the page to save my spot before setting the book down on the table. I slipped on a pair of boots and walked out into the parking lot keeping the door open.

"See, Sammy, nothing to worry about," I stated with my arms outstretched and my head tilted back to watch as the dark clouds moved slowly to the east.

"Meg, get back inside," Dean scowled turning the television off and staring at me in shock.

"Would you two relax, it's fine," I groaned wanting to stay outside and watch the storm pass us by.

There was no rain falling from the skies, at least not yet, and the world around us had gone quiet. The calm before the real storm hit us, sending rolls of thunder in our direction as a warning but for me it was an invitation. An invitation to watch something bigger then ourselves unfold, to watch something that no hunter, or common man could stop. Storms could destroy crops, wipe out entire towns all in a blink of an eye and I couldn't help but be fascinated by the whole thing.

"Megan, knock it off," Dean yelled as a flash of lightening lit up the darkened sky for a brief moment. "The last thing I need to do is call dad and tell him you wanted to play Benjamin Franklin."

I listened only because I could see Sam peering over the edge of the bed with pure terror in his eyes but I spent the rest of the day next to the window watching the rain wash away impurities while Dean distracted Sam with a ThunderCats marathon.

***Present***

"You're right, goober, things haven't changed," I chuckled slightly sharing a look with Dean who was concealing his laughter with a cough.

"Yeah, laugh it up you two," Sam grinned holding his cell phone up reminding us of the blackmail picture he had.

"I'm going to get him back for that," Dean muttered in my ear as we followed the large tracks through the woods.

"Count me in," I nodded, careful to avoid the easily breakable foliage and taking a moment to admire a ghost orchid which poured over the brown moss that blanketed one side of the gigantic trees. Even from where I stood so close to the mysterious plant, which cast a dim shadow due to the oncoming storm, the roots blended so well with the moss and the bark that the paper-like, thin flower seemed to be floating in midair.

When Dean realized that I was so fixated in one place, he jogged backwards and tilted his head closer to mine to follow my gaze. "Charisma had the exact same tattoo."

"Who's Charisma?" His comment pulled me half out the door of enchantment. I looked back at him after a moment of silence. My brother had a crooked smile on his face. "You're looking at one of the most reclusive flowers in the U.S. and automatically thinking about strippers? Get your mind out of the gutters and back on the sidewalk."

"Yes, Bwana," Dean lowered his head and pretended to bow down to me in obedience, quoting my favorite line from the 1962 John Wayne movie _Hatari_. "I'll do whatever you say, Bwana."

When he straightened himself up with a self-satisfied smirk, I put my entire hand over his grinning face and shoved him away so he staggered back a few steps, bumping into Sam who wasn't watching where he was going since his entire focus was on the darkening skies above.

"Sam," I snapped playfully, motioning to him with my hand to settle down. "Just relax."

With a brief glance at me, my little brother directed his eyes back up to the skies. "How am I supposed to relax if you keep telling me to relax?"

A sharp crack of thunder blasted above our heads. I glanced up at the skies and smiled into the cold air that fluttered through the leaves of the trees. There were rips of purple light patched around the dark slate blue clouds which stood suspended in the ocean of the sky like it was draped and curled in a bed of cotton balls. The few wisps of sunlight that managed to seep through this murky cloak stood out at the edges of the purple light and slowly faded into the sky in a gust of light pink transparency.

"These tracks lead to liquor store," Sam motioned to the ramshackle building across the ways, and pulled me by elbow toward a little bridge that led over to the store.

Our jobs were cut short when we found the back door of the store busted open. The wooden frame was splintered and the lock was beyond repairable from the looks of it.

"So, what -" Dean got down on his hunches over the mess of broken bottles in front of the counter. "Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch? Amaretto and Irish cream." He read the labels when another boyish grin brightened his face. "He's a girl-drink drunk like you Sammy."

I stifled a laugh, pressing my lips together to suppress my glee when Sam shot me his bitch-face and walked around the crowded store. While he went full Mystery Gang on us, I joined Dean as he helped himself to some of the better class of liquors off the shelves behind the counter.

"How many do you think you can fit in you pockets?" I asked, holding up two large bottles of cherry Schnapps.

My older brother furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief, tucking a bottle in his inside jacket pocket. "Oh, no. You can't make me stow your fruity drinks. No way."

"Check this out," Sam called us over to the disheveled rack with a few pornographic magazines hanging off the metal slots.

"He took the whole porno rack?" Dean blanched. "Well, I'll say it again. What the hell is going on in this town?"

"When did you say it the first time?" I questioned, snapping open the locked cap of a chilled water bottle which I conveniently found in the large coolers at the back of the store. "Who ever this guy is, he must be Dean's alter ego. Porno's and booze."

"Thanks for the psychological analysis, Hannibal Lector," My brother sarcastically remarked, snatching the water from my hands and chugging three-fourths of the entire bottle so I was only left with bare to nothing left.

"You guys done?" Sam called from the back door, rolling his eyes when Dean and I shoved each other back and forth as we followed him out to the bench on the front stoop of the store.

"It's got to be a joke, right?" Dean fit in one last shove as he sat down on one side of Sam so I would have to sit on the opposite side of the bench. "Some big-ass mother in a gorilla suit?"

"Or it's a Bigfoot." I waved the hundred dollar bill in the air to remind him that I was on the winning side today. "You know, and he's some kind of an alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny but without all the drugs and rock and roll."

"But the drugs and rock and roll are the fun part," Dean wiggled his eyebrows like an idiot. Sam and I easily ignored the comment as we thought of any other possible or probable explanation.

The air was humid after the slight drizzle that had begun when we were inside the store, and the clouds were rapidly moving north. A little part of me wanted to believe that the storm that Dean and I had pulled Sam into was also being pulled away but that was an absurd impossibility.

"I got nothing," Dean declared, taking out a bottle of whiskey that he took from the store and popped the seal.

"Isn't it a bit too early to be drinking?" Sam bemusedly inquired, his eyes following a little girl riding a bicycle toward the store, the basket attached to the back full of things that I couldn't make out.

She passed by us without a glance and the strong gusts of wind sent a magazine to fly out of the basket. When I picked it up, I died a little inside.

"She's a bit too young for Busty Asian Beauties, don't you think?" I held the raunchy magazine cover so my brothers could see.

"Oh, I haven't seen this issue," Dean snatched it out of my hands and flipped through a few pages before turning his head to one side. "I, uh, like the articles," he mumbled clearly engrossed in the picture on the page.

Sam stuck his tongue in his cheek out of frustration and motioned for me to follow him around the side of the building as we left Dean with his reading material. We ducked behind a couple of bushes as the little girl dropped the basket by the door and rode away. After we were sure she was gone we walked over to the basket to see it filled with magazines, a few bottles of alcohol and a note written in crayon that said 'I'm Sorry'.

"I'm starting to think maybe somebody is pumping LSD into the town water supply," I commented grabbing one of the bottles of alcohol and shoving it into my jacket pocket.

"Really?" Sam questioned with an outstretched hand in the direction we left Dean. "You're as bad as him."

"Nope, I'm worse," I smirked earning a playful shove from little brother.

After we pulled a drooling Dean back to the Impala we headed in the direction the little girl went and found her bike parked in front of a small house.

"What are we going to do? Walk up to the door and ask if she's seen Bigfoot?" Sam asked as Dean turned off the car.

"You got a better idea?" Dean challenged getting out of the car.

"Well, this should be interesting," I mused taking a quick sip out of the bottle I had stored away in my jacket before stashing it under the seat.

Sam knocked and I jogged over in time to see the same little girl from before open the door.

"Hello," she said lifting her chin to be able to see my brothers' faces.

"Hello!" Sam said a little more cheerfully than needed but he didn't have the experience with kids like Dean did. "Um, could we…you know what? Are your parents home?"

"Nope," she replied simply.

"No," Sam repeated looking over to Dean and me for a little help.

"Have you seen a really, really furry…" Dean started raising his hand in the air to show the approximate height.

"Is he in trouble?" she asked fearfully.

"No, no, no," I reassured her stepping between my brothers and crouching down so I was at her level. "He's in no trouble at all. We," I motioned to the three of us, "just wanted to make sure that he is ok."

"Exactly," Dean nodded going along with my story that I managed to pull out of thin air. Guess that was one part of being a Winchester I could never lose no matter how hard I tried.

"He's my teddy bear. I think he's sick," she told us seriously though she kept her eyes on me like I somehow had all the answers.

"You know what, you're in luck," I stated pulling out my fake health inspector badge and flipping it open. "Because we are teddy bear doctors, if anyone can make your teddy bear better it is the three of us."

"Really? Can you please take a look at him?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," Dean agreed giving me an impressed look.

"Come with me," she said grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house and up a flight of stairs. I couldn't help but smile; the last time someone had held my hand and urged me to look at something was when Sam was younger. "He's in my bedroom but he's pretty grumpy."

"That's ok, I have two brothers, I'm used to grumpy," I told her as she let go of my hand to open the door Dean flicked me in the back of the ear for my comment.

"Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you," she called through the door before opening it.

There in front of us was the largest teddy bear I'd ever seen with a bottle of whiskey in its hand watching television.

"Close the friggin' door!" The bear yelled looking over to us.

She closed the door and shook her head, "see what I mean?"

"I…I see," I stuttered out looking over to my brothers who looked as lost and confused as I felt.

"All I ever wanted was a teddy which was big, real, and talked. But now he's sad all the time…not 'ouch' sad but ouch-in-the-head sad. He says weird stuff and smells like the bus."

"Um, little girl," Dean started.

"Audrey!" she exclaimed with a sigh and I had to bite my lip before I started laughing at Dean being corrected by a child.

"Audrey," he tried again, "how exactly did your teddy become real?"

"I wished for it," Audrey replied as if it was no big deal.

"You wished for it?" Sam questioned.

She nodded and looked back to me, "at the wishing well."

"Just give us a minute, sweetie," I smiled and pulled Sam down the hallway out of ear shot as Dean went to get a second look at the talking, drinking, teddy bear.

"You were really good with her," Sam commented with a look of pride in his eyes.

"I had to do an internship in a children's ward for a semester," I brushed it off.

"So, what are we going to do?" Sam asked in a hushed tone as we heard the bear yell 'crap'. "We're not going to kill this teddy bear, are we?"

"How? Shoot it, burn it? I don't think it's in our job description to be killing a little girl's stuffed toy," I answered not even believing we were having this conversation.

"That teddy bears going full Funny Man in there," Dean remarked with a sly smirk when he joined the semi-circle that Sam and I had formed near the faded banister.

Sam turned to me, a strand of hair falling over his eyes when he asked, "Funny man?"

"Boondock Saints," I replied dismissively, turning to Dean and looking up at him like he had all the answers just like Audrey had stared up at me moments before. "What are we going to do with that thing?"

"Little girl," My older brother turned on his heel but jumped slightly when Audrey and I corrected him. "Audrey, sheesh! Audrey. Where are your parents?"

Audrey innocently answered, "My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali."

What I wanted to know was what kind of parent would leave their child home alone?

Even before that string of thought had a chance to end and fade away I realized that that was exactly the kind of parent John Winchester was. I tried to convince myself that my father had done what he did for different reasons and would never leave my brothers and me to go live it up in Bali with a native girl in a coconut bra and tons of drinks with colorful little umbrellas though at this point almost anything was possible.

"I'm really sorry to have to break this to you, but," I started, surprised when I snapped myself out of my own daydreaming. "your bear is sick. Yeah, he's got...uhm…"

"Lollipop disease," Dean offered.

"Lollipop disease," I confirmed, nodding in strained sympathy and conviction. "It's not uncommon for a bear his size. But, see, it's – it's really contagious."

"I've never seen a lady doctor before," Audrey wiggled the corners of her lips childishly, focusing on my face.

"We're out there, sweetie." I gave her a small smile trying not to take offense and hopefully hint to her that women can do anything a man can do. "Now, is there a grown-up you can stay with while we treat Teddy?"

"Mrs. Hurley lives down the street."

"Perfect," Dean threw in, moving toward the bedroom door where the giant teddy bear was still brooding in front of the television set.

"Oh, and, Audrey?" Sam spoke up, still trying to find his hunting legs. "Where is this wishing well?"

Audrey motioned me to crouch down on my ankles so I could be on the same level as her. She cupped her hand over my ear and whispered the location.

"Thank you, Audrey," I politely nodded, tossing my head toward the stairs to indicate that we should be heading out. "Dean, let's go."

Dean looked over his shoulder at me; he was so fixated on the bear. "So where's the wishing well?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I remarked, yanking the back door of the Impala with more force than I had originally intended but relaxing when I caught sight of Audrey standing behind the screen door at the porch. I gave her a quick wave before climbing into the back seat.

"Meg," Dean started the engine and twisted back to hold out a hand to me. "I do believe you owe me a hundred and twenty dollars."

"What? Why?" I laughed, starting to get a bit hesitant when he smiled mischievously.

"I don't consider giant, flaming, pissed-off teddy bears worthy of being called Bigfoot. Now, pay up, sister." I let out a frustrated groan and handed over the money, rolling my eyes when Dean chuckled victoriously. "Pleasure doing business with you."

*****SUPERNATURAL*****

"A Chinese restaurant?" Dean scoffed unbelievingly as he stood in front of the small building with one leg kicked out to the side before turning to me with a hesitant expression. "You sure this is where the little girl said the wishing well was?"

"Her name is Audrey," I corrected matter-of-factly then glanced at the paneled windows of the restaurant. "and yeah. This is the only Chinese joint in town."

A cold breeze pulled at the wispy tendrils of loose hair that had escaped from the messy bun that I had coiled at the nape of my neck. It was then that I became aware of the oncoming storm again. The rumbling thunder had been filtered out of my ears since I had been so concentrated on Audrey.

A moment passed before I noticed that I was standing beside the Impala by myself and that my brothers had already took shelter in the restaurant. There was a calm drizzle of rain starting to fall from the dangerous looking clouds which were still suspended in the darkened skies above me. I came in just to see Dean throwing a penny into the wishing well at the corner of the store.

"What did you wish for?" I asked, rooting myself between my brothers.

"Shhh!" Dean put a finger to his lips. "Not supposed to tell."

I dug around in my jacket for a moment before I felt an old penny snuggly fit in the corner dips of my pockets. "Well, make this more interesting," The penny fluttered and spiraled from my fingers and landed in the water with a hollow plop.

Dean leaned in closer to me. "What'd you wish for?"

"Shhh, it's a secret," I replied, equally cryptic, and walked toward an empty table that accommodated all three of us.

A few moments later, much to my surprise, a delivery man walked into the store. "Somebody order a foot long Italian with jalapeño?"

Dean's face lit up for a brief moment in amazement. "That'd be me,"

I blanched as Dean dug right in. "You could have asked for literally anything and you wished for a foot long Italian with jalapeño?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Meggie," He took a large bite out of a corner where some jalapeños were starting to fall out of the bread. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"And uh," The delivery guy hesitantly approached again after giving my brother his sandwich. "I accidentally grabbed a cherry Snapple for another client who ordered a fruit punch one. You don't mind taking this off my hands, would you?"

I grinned; guess the wishing well was the real deal. "I wouldn't mind it. Thanks."

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh?" Dean questioned taking another huge bite out of his sandwich before sticking it in front of my face offering me a bite. I shook my head with my nose scrunched up in disgust. He shrugged and continued, "We just supposed to stop people's wishes from coming true? I mean, it sounds like kind of a douche-y thing to do."

I peeled the plastic off the top of my Snapple and popped the top taking notice of the writing on the inside. _Snapple Fact 714: When thirsty, a camel can drink 25 gallons of water in less than three minutes._ Sadly, this also reminded me of Dean at a bar.

"Yeah, maybe. But come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one," Sam stated with a look on his face that I knew he had already made up his mind.

"I don't know but I do know this is a damn good sandwich and I was pretty specific," Dean continued to messily inhale the sandwich as I sipped on the Snapple.

"Meg?" Sam questioned turning his attention to me.

"What?" I looked up from picking at the label on the bottle.

"What do you think?" Sam clarified and Dean glanced over waiting for my answer as well but before I got a chance to answer the owner of the restaurant showed up at our table.

"Uh, I'm sorry but we do not allow people to eat outside food here," he said with hands motioning to the sandwich and then to the floor as if to further make his point.

"Well, I am certainly…" Dean started until I cut him off.

"They were just leaving." The look of annoyance I got from my eldest brother was one I should have shrunken under but instead I slightly shoved his shoulder. "Go on, I'll meet you outside in a few I just need to use the restroom."

"Come on, man," Sam stood up with a sigh. "It's not worth it."

Dean mumbled a few obscenities under his breath and took one more large bite out of his sandwich just for spite before walking out the door with Sam. I glanced over to the door and could see Dean arguing with Sam about something. Shaking my head I walked over to the wishing well and fished out another coin from my pocket holding it tightly in between my thumb and pointer finger.

_Please, this has to work,_ I thought as I closed my eyes and dropped the coin into the well.

"I wish to know where my dad is."


End file.
